


Pretence

by AkaShika



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Boys Kissing, Falling In Love, M/M, Side Lucissa, side wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-11-27 11:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18193967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaShika/pseuds/AkaShika
Summary: When the lord and abdicated king of Islington and London announces that his heir is coming of age, royalty from around the Isles and all of Europe is invited to the celebration, including Prince Draco, whose father has told him that Lord Black's Heir is also his betrothed.





	1. On The Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [digthewriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/digthewriter/gifts).



> I saw this prompt just a few days before claiming opened and discussed a few ideas with a friend, when I blamed her for dragging me into yet another fest she said "And ode to me and why I'm your muse will be sufficient." She asks that all fanmail be sent to her personal assistan Hubert who is a one-eyed, peg-legged gnome with a Romanian accent. (much love to you my darling, this wouldn't exist without your enabling ways.)
> 
> Many thanks go to my beta, OllieMaye for helping me so much when I needed it and encouraging me. Bonus cheerleading points to Chris and Fan  
> Thanks also go to Dig for prompting this piece and the other mods for this fest who are fantastic and brilliant.

"Now remember what I've told you, Draco," King Lucius says as the carriage he rides in with his family bounces along the rocky road. "Lord Black has kept his ward out of sight completely; we don't even know his name, but when he abdicated the throne to Black Castle and Islington, he named a Steward to rule until his ward came of age."

"I know, Father," Draco says. He's heard variants of the same speech a dozen times in the last two weeks. "When he announced that he had a ward, it sealed the contracts between our families."

"There have been many visitors to Black Castle in the last dozen years and none of them saw hide nor hair of the little Prince. Wherever he was raised, it was not in Black Castle."

Although the Lord Black was called the Lord of Black Castle and Islington, he was also the de facto ruler of the surrounding area too.

"The Prince may be crowned the King in as little as two years, but Lord Black is making him take his debut soon, which means he's likely going to take it sooner. You, as the Consort of Islington and future king of Wiltshire, will be his guide in how to be proper royalty."

"Enough Lucius," Draco's mother said. "Draco is clever enough to know what he should do in almost any situation, and if you think Sirius didn't raise his ward to be as cunning as the others in our family, then I'm not sure you should be giving him advice." Narcissa, the Queen Consort of Wiltshire was royalty in her own right, though the older Draco got, the more he thought his father forgot that.

Draco had just passed his twenty-first birthday and while he'd had offers of marriage from many of his father's associates for their sons or daughters, he'd not accepted any of them. Draco was aware it was because he was supposed to marry Lord Black's ward but as the child had never been seen, they all thought he had died while he was young, thus opening Draco up for more offers.

In the last three years alone, Draco had found letters asking about a marriage offer from no less than seven people, two of them sisters. And when Draco was younger, he had squired for the eldest son of one his father's lord and had to practically beat off the knight's younger sister with an actual sword. She had been convinced he was there so they could get to know each other before they married, not so Draco could actually learn something he would need in the future.

The Lord Edwin Parkinson had sent his daughter to another household for the remaining years Draco had been there and he'd never been happier, though it had taken a lot of effort on his part.

"Regardless, my dear," Lucius says in a placating tone, “it will not be a bad thing for him to make sure he is aware of what he needs to do."

Draco has often wondered what his life would have been like had his uncle taken the throne and married his mother instead of his father, but Wiltshire, it seemed, survived in spite of his father's ambitious and often overzealous plans. It didn't help that Draco's uncle and grandfather had been killed just days before Lucius's wedding, forcing the coronation of the younger son thirteen months later. Everything Draco learned about ruling his kingdom in the future, however, he learned from his mother.

His father's teaching had revolved around weapons training and not much else. Lucius had passed hunting over to the falconers, equestrianism to the Stable Hands and when he was fourteen, he was sent to squire and there he learned more than he could ever hope to use in these more peaceful times. It had been twenty years since the last war after all, and while it had been brutal, they had recovered from it admirably.

Narcissa blinks once, long and slow. "You are a fool, Lucius, if you think Sirius will leave the sole reign of Islington to a boy with no education." She turns to Draco and the look on her face softens. "Sirius has kept his ward out of the eye of almost everyone for years. I wouldn't think it's likely he'll introduce us to him before the day of the ball."

"Why would he do that though?" Draco asks. It's a question that's been in his mind for a while now and like it or not, he doesn't know as much about his mother's family as either of them would like. "Keep him hidden away from everyone, including family?"

"We're not going to be the only family there, Draco," Narcissa says. "A lot of the families of the kingdoms surrounding us and Islington will be hoping to wed Sirius's ward into their own. Depending on who his ward is, your contract may not even be valid if he decides it's not."

"Why would he do that?" Draco is used to people with power doing what they like but it doesn't make sense for Sirius, who Draco thought was intelligent, to sign a contract and then say it doesn't matter.

"Our grandfather wouldn't allow Sirius to marry who he wanted," Narcissa tells him. "Sirius wanted to marry for love, I'm sure he'll give his ward that option."

"And I will show him the contract he signed," Lucius says with a slimy smirk.

"Then Sirius will laugh in your face," Narcissa says. "He'll probably ask if all your shields are made of paper and wonder how you are still alive."

Draco tries not to laugh, but his parents arguing has always been amusing to him.

"Unless Sirius's ward marries Draco, the crown of Islington will be out of my family for as long as it takes for our line to produce someone that may make his ward's children or grandchildren fall in love with them. Sirius thinks on arranged marriages as old-fashioned and his ward will likely do away with them by law when they take on the crown. If nothing else it will allow Sirius to marry whoever he chooses."

"Mother, why do you continue to refer to the Prince as Lord Black's ward?"

Narcissa smiles, aware, not for the first time, that she is an outside in Wiltshire. "Sirius has always liked to play jokes, Dragon. It would be just like him to claim the child is a prince and instead produce a princess to be crowned."

Draco is quiet for most of the rest of the ride. He's grown up thinking he'll marry the Prince of Islington and now his mother is telling him that not only that he may not marry him, but also, he may not even be a him. Draco doesn't mind; he doesn't think it would be a problem if it were a prince or a princess he was set to marry, but the idea that it's all down to Lord Black's ward and that he has no option in it at all makes him think a little more.

He knows that Lord Black's ward will likely be watching how their potential spouse acts while they're not around; it's what Draco would do, anyway. They'll probably want to see and hear how Draco and his parents act with their own retinue of household servants and how that treatment differs from their own household. Draco's family may have their own guards and personal servants with them, but they will need to rely on Lord Black's household staff for most things.

Draco, and his mother most probably too, are more than aware that Lucius's disregard for the help will hinder them in appealing their family to the Lost Prince.

"Do we know which other families have been invited?" Draco asks as they move closer to Black Castle.

"A few that will be here are not from the Isles," Narcissa tells him. "The Zabini family, for example, have been invited, and for all that they are not royalty themselves. The Patils have two daughters, neither of whom can take the throne in their kingdom, and although they're princesses, their family is struggling enough that marrying one of them to a foreign king would be a coup for them."

"Anyone else?" Draco asks. He doesn't like his chances against Blaise Zabini, the son of a Countess from Italia. Draco's only met him twice, but each time he had thought himself a little in love with him. He doesn't think the Lost Prince would fare much better. He also knows of the Patils, though he's never met them.

"Some I can guess at, mostly from knowing Sirius," Narcissa says. "But we'll be here longer than all of them regardless. As relatives of Sirius's, we've been invited to spend more time at Black Castle. Most people won't arrive until a week before the ball."

"Are any of our other family members going to be there?" Draco asks. He doesn't say as such to his mother, but her sister Bellatrix has always creeped him out.

"My sister Andromeda and her family may be there, but Sirius hasn't let Bella back into Black Castle since her husband was found fornicating in the stables with a servant."

"I don't think I've ever met Andromeda," Draco says. His statement is met with a derisive snort from his father.

"No, nor would you ever if my grandfather had his way after his death," Narcissa tells him. "Andromeda, much like Sirius, wanted to marry someone Grandfather disapproved of. Unlike Sirius, she was threatened with disownment if she didn't comply. Sirius had the protection of being Grandfather's heir after all. Andromeda was never one to sit quietly while others decided her fate, so she and her chosen husband ran away to the kingdom of York. King Francis accepted them both immediately and Grandfather disowned her and any children she would have, as well as banning her from Islington. He couldn't deny her access to the London Lands but, once he died, Sirius revoked the ban."

"So why have I never met her?"

"We've not had many family gatherings, Dragon," Narcissa says. "And she was happy to stay in York with her family."

"I am quite glad you're not prone to the same dramatics as the rest of your family, my dear," Lucius says to Narcissa.

Draco looks out the window he's sat next to and watches the countryside pass by to distract himself from his father's stupid blunder. He knows that soon enough the countryside will give way to smaller towns, and then to the city where Black Castle stands tall and proud. He can't wait to get on to a smoother road again, Draco thinks he'll have bruises on his arse from the hundred miles of rough road between the castle he grew up in and Black Castle.

At this point in his life, Draco feels confident enough about his ability to say he hates travelling. He hates the endless hours on horseback when he is in Wiltshire and he hates the miles in a wheelhouse when he has to take longer trips.

With no direction, Draco's more than happy on horses; he loves the bounce when his steed gallops around fields and he loves letting them decide where they're going and how fast they go. He hopes he'll get a chance to ride properly when they get to Islington. From what he remembers, though, the castle is in the middle of a city and he wasn't allowed to explore beyond the keep when he was younger.

Maybe Draco will be able to convince Lord Sirius that having one of the stable hands take him for a ride will be a good thing. Maybe he can say that he's interested in learning more about the lands surrounding Islington and London.

Maybe his father will think he's asking for another reason and not tell him he can't.

It's a few more hours before the fields give way to small towns, and a few miles outside the city gates, Draco begins to get agitated, more so than he was before.

"Just another hour or two, Draco," Narcissa says, as though she can sense her son's discontent.

"The stronger the smell of shit grows, the closer we are," Lucius adds.

"As if we don't live in a castle surrounded by fields of livestock and the smell of shit anyway," Draco grumbles. He doesn't hate his father, no matter how he feels most of the time. He doesn't even dislike him all that much, but sometimes Lucius thinks he's the cleverest person in the world and that grates at Draco, not only because he knows he's smarter than his father, but also because he knows his mother's intelligence outstrips them both. But Lucius, like a lot of people, think that women are worse than men at everything besides sewing.

Draco would love to give his mother a long sword and see how much she can remember with it. His own sword fighting style is influenced largely by the way his mother taught him to dance, saying it would help him with swordplay to make him more interested. He knows that he's odd when compared to most other people because he'd gladly choose a lighter blade over a bastard sword if only for the ability to move around more in a fight.

Draco wonders why it is that the closer they get to their destination, the more time seems to drag on. He's been looking out of the window at the slowly growing towns they've been passing for what feels like days. It's only when he spots the walled city from the top of the hill they're travelling on that he realises how close they are. Another hour or two at most and he'll be able to clean up in a proper tub, use an actual garderobe instead of a hole in the side of the road. Gods, just thinking about it is making him anxious to be there already. Even if he does nothing else for the rest of the day than wander around a new castle and try to find hidden passageways, it'll still be better than being stuck where he is now.

He loves his parents, but two or more days in a confined space with them would be too much for anyone.


	2. The Lost Prince

Henry is sat on the large wooden table in the middle of Black Castle's kitchen. His hands are between his knees, clutching the edge and his feet swing freely back and forth as he listens to Missus Molly scold her youngest son.

"They were meant for tonight's supper," she says as she wields her wooden spoon threateningly.

"You don't normally care," Ronald says as he nurses the fingers of his left hand; so far they're the only victims in the battle between Molly and her spoon, and Ronald and his stomach.

"We don't normally have Lord Sirius's cousin and her family here," she says. "Family, I might add, who happen to be rather important in their kingdom."

As much as Henry hates to get involved in the show, Missus Molly is right about one thing: if supper isn't done well and on time, there's no doubt Sirius's cousin or her family will enjoy disparaging Sirius and his choice of household staff. "It'll be fine, Missus Molly," Henry says. "I'll tell Sirius it was me and Ronald can help me clean out the kennels when Sirius tries to tell me that's my punishment."

"How do you know he'll make you muck out the kennels?" Ronald asks.

"It may not be the kennels," Henry replies with a small grin. "He might send me up to the mews with Charles and have me clean the birds muck. Or he might send me to Hagrid for a day in the stables. Either way, it'll be smelly."

"That's enough from the pair of you," Molly says. "Ronald, I want you to find Ginevra and help her bring in the meat for the meal tonight; Henry, Lord Sirius will probably need you for a few things before the king and queen get here." She stands looking at them for a few more seconds before waving her spoon about threateningly. "I'm not saying this for my health, off with you both. Now."

Henry smiles widely as he jumps down off the table. He knows he's lucky the King Regent hasn't stopped by the kitchens yet today. Remus has always hated when Henry sits on tables.

As Ronald leaves the kitchens through the grounds entrance, Henry makes his way through the servant passageways and up to the seventh floor. The room he enters into hasn't been used regularly since Sirius's grandfather was a prince. Its access has been blocked from everywhere besides the servant walkways and, as far as Henry is aware, he's the only one who has ever come up here. He learned the basics of carpentry from Missus Molly's husband and when he found bits of broken tables and chairs and other pieces of wood from things in here, he built himself his own table and chair. They stand in the corner furthest away from the open window, the only window in the room. It doesn't have shutters, so it’s cold in the winter, and often, birds will roost in there. But the window itself has a fantastic view of over the castle's walls, to the city below, and beyond.

Henry discovered a few years ago that there are crumbling stairs leading even higher, and, had he been younger when he'd discovered them, he would have explored. However, caution had been drilled into him by Missus Molly after one of her sons, one of the Twins, had fallen from one of the lower roofs. He'd broken his leg and dominant arm and it had put an end to his favoured hobby of archery, leaving Ginevra, Molly's youngest daughter, to gleefully pick up his slack when it came to hunting. The only people who hadn't been surprised by her skill with a bow were Henry and her second eldest brother, Charles.

Henry had investigated from the ground to see if he could tell where the stairs led, but the tower was too high up for him to see properly. Eventually, he'd discovered that it led to a room with a single beam of wood stretching across its length, high enough that even the tallest man wouldn't be able to reach it.

He'd asked Sirius about it and he'd gone pale. After a few cups of ale, Sirius had told Henry that his great-grandfather had the room closed off after a madness had swept through their family, causing the afflicted members to become either sadistic, or paranoid. He hadn't said it outright; he hadn't needed to. Terrible things had happened in that room.

The tower, Sirius had said, had been called "The Home of the Lost" by their family.

Henry thought the room he had access to, given the name the Blacks had called it, was the perfect place for him to stop being Henry for a while, and to allow him—if only briefly—to be Harry, the Lost Prince.

Henry—Harry—knows that there are only a few people in the castle who know the secret of who he is. He doesn't know everyone who knows, just Sirius and Remus, but as the day of his birthday draws closer, Henry counts the people he calls a friend and wonders how they'll take it when the truth comes out.

He sits at the desk he made, in the chair he made, and he thinks about Ronald, someone he grew up with like a brother, finding out that he's actually an orphaned prince and not an orphaned commoner. He thinks about how Ronald has reacted in the past when Sirius has asked Henry to do something for him instead of asking Ronald, whose whole family has been in the Black Family's service for decades.

He thinks about Hermione, the actually-orphaned commoner who Sirius took in and gave work to in the library because she loved reading and books, someone who felt comfortable with Henry because he "knew" what she'd been through.

He wonders how he can tell them that nothing was really a lie, except his name. He wonders if Sirius will let him tell them first, before the stupid ball that he doesn't want, and the stupid wedding to a person he doesn't know.

Henry lets his head fall to the table and bangs it twice more for good measure, hoping the pain will stop his thoughts going around in circles. He knows there's nothing he can do until he speaks to Sirius, but he also knows that getting Sirius alone over the next few weeks is going to be difficult.

People are coming from kingdoms near and far for Henry's unveiling, some royal families of their island are hoping for a marriage alliance; others just want to make sure that when Sirius abdicated in favour of his ward, that he didn't do it under false pretences. Sirius's cousin Bellatrix, though she won't be here, is one of those making sure of that last point, if only because if he did, the crown will go to her and her husband, who would have been a king had his father not been deposed. Notts Kingdom has suffered heavily in the last thirty years though, and one overthrown royal family isn't nearly the worst of their problems. Especially not when the overthrown king decided that the best way to get back at his courtiers was to try to take over all the kingdoms in their isles.

Clearly, sitting at his desk and trying not to think isn't helping Henry, so he stands and looks out through the window, over the city. Any thoughts he was having churned to a halt when he saw the column coming through the gates. In less than thirty minutes, the first of their visitors will be here. Henry needs to make sure Sirius is waiting for them in the courtyard.

His mad run down the stairs and through the servants' passages to the Family Wing of the castle is hasty, and Henry has never been more glad that he knows his way through the warrens in the walls. He bursts into Remus's study, where most of the running of the castle is done, hoping one of them are there.

Henry's lucky in the sense that they're both there; he's unlucky in the sense that he'd rather not have caught them in the position they're in. Sirius is sat on Remus's desk with Remus between his legs. They're doing nothing more than kissing, but it brings to mind the times that he's caught them with less clothing on, and reminds him that they have no shame.

"They're almost here," he says, panting for breath. "Make yourselves decent, you can't meet royalty from another kingdom looking like you've just rolled out of the bed of a whorehouse."

Henry doesn't wait for a reply. Instead, he turns on his heel and is just about to close the door when Remus calls to him.

"Do something about your hair."

"It looks like you just rolled out of a bed in a whorehouse," Sirius adds, laughing.

"I'm a lowborn orphan servant, they don't care what I look like."

The door shuts with a clip and Henry hopes the Royal Family of Wiltshire are at least polite to the help. Sometimes visitors will make things more difficult for them deliberately, and that always brings him close to revealing who he is. He's glad at least that Sirius took his rebellion as a teenager seriously enough to send him away for a few months. Officially, he was fostered to another house in another kingdom; unofficially, Andromeda, Sirius's second eldest cousin, was drilling into him things he needed to understand, as one of the few people outside the castle who knew who he was.

Before Henry makes it to the end of the corridor, Sirius calls out to him.

"Henry," he says. "You'll be my cupbearer."

Henry turns and over-exaggerates his bow. He's determined to take his fun where he can now, knowing that most of the servants, including himself, will be watched by others closely over the next few weeks. "As your Grace wishes," he says. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to do your job and get everyone ready for our guests’ arrival."

"It'll be your job soon."

Henry ignores Sirius as he makes his way to his room in the servants' quarters. He finds his leather jerkin rolled in a ball in one of his drawers and hopes that Remus doesn't complain about it being unclean. He slips it over his shirt and smoothes out the fabric in the front, reminding himself, as he has many times in the past, that the deception is necessary for his safety.

He splashes some water from the washbasin over his face and uses his damp fingers to try to get his hair under some semblance of control—not that it works—while wishing he'd had time for a shave. He drags his fingers over the short, coarse hairs on his chin and resolves to do it before supper. The last thing he wants is for the Wiltshire king to try to embarrass Sirius over the state of his servants. It wouldn't work, of course; Sirius does as he wishes no matter who it annoys.

When he deems himself ready enough, he makes his way to the kitchens to let the staff there know their guests are imminent, and from there, he'll go to the stables to let Hagrid and the other stableboys know they'll be needed shortly. After that, he can go around to the courtyard, hopefully getting there before they open the gates.

Henry wonders if he'll eventually get used to other people doing for him everything he's spent the last few years doing for Sirius. He doesn't think he will; he also knows that he may not have a choice though.

Whoever he ends up marrying will probably have not done half the stuff he has. They'll know how to wield a sword, how to ride a horse, how to string a bow; If he's lucky, they'll also have been taught how much effort goes into running a castle properly. Henry knows that in a full castle, not one working mostly with skeleton staff, the coordination is even more important. He knows that he doesn't even do half the work he's expected to, that it mostly falls on Remus and sometimes Percy but when he brings it up with Remus, he's told not to worry; that for now, he's Henry and that Percy doesn't know the truth, else he’d get suspicious.

In one way, Harry can't wait to finally be done with having to live his double life; in another, he wants to keep with his unassuming, completely predictable persona of Henry forever.

Henry makes it to the courtyard just as Remus and Sirius are strolling out of the main doors and making their way to the front of their staff. Henry stands with them, but also slightly behind them, acknowledging that he's not important, that he's just one of their personal staff. Sirius looks at him with an expression he can't really interpret, and then the gates open to let in the Royal family of Wiltshire and all their various attendants.

Their carriage is gilded, and thoroughly ostentatious, and Henry hates it on first sight. Their footman pulls down the steps before opening the door and someone, who Henry assumes is King Lucius, steps down, his nose wrinkled and his mouth set in a moue of disgust. He helps down his wife, the Queen Narcissa, and she gives Henry hope that the whole family isn't awful as she looks around and smiles genuinely at the castle and the staff. They move to the side and the only person left, the Prince, one of Henry's potential partners, steps out.

He's not what Henry expected. He's just as blond as both his parents, which surprised Henry since every other member of Sirius's family has darker hair, and his features are more like his mother's than his father's. Henry can't tell if that's because Narcissa and her son have more pleasant expressions when compared to Lucius or if he does take after her more. Either way, he's not looking around distastefully at the castle, and that's a point in his favour over his father at least.

The family moves to stand in front of Sirius and Remus and as one, everyone from Black Castle bows to the visiting royals. Sirius then breaks protocol completely by addressing Narcissa first.

"Welcome home, cousin," he says.

Henry swears he can see a muscle in Lucius's face twitch.


	3. Meeting

Narcissa seems thrilled that Sirius is flouting protocol, and she laughs before kissing him on the cheek in greeting. Her son, Deryck or Dirk or something, looks to be holding back a smile too, something that Henry likes.

"It's good to see you again, cousin," Narcissa says, and Henry can sense the warmth in her tone. "The castle hasn't changed a bit, has it?"

"Not from out here, no," Sirius says. "Some places inside are mostly closed off, there's not as many people here as there used to be and it's just more work for the staff to keep them open." Sirius bows once more to Lucius and then to his son. "This," he says, waving a hand at Remus, "is the castle's main steward and the King Regent, Remus. He's been looking after things for me until my ward is of age to rule properly." He signals for Henry to come forward and after a few brief seconds of wondering if it's worth the trouble of being disobedient, he steps forward. He notices Lucius's eyes on him, watching him carefully. He bows more deeply than he needs to.

"This is Henry, he's my squire, and also one of my cupbearers. He'll show you the apartments we've set up for your use while you're here."

Henry rises from his bow without noticing if Lucius has acknowledged him. "If you'd follow me, Your Grace," he says. He doesn't wait for an answer but instead leads the family and their attendants into the castle and up the main stairs to the guest apartments.

For the sake of Lucius and his son, but also for Narcissa who hasn't been back here properly since Sirius became king, he tells them about the artwork and the design work of the interior of the castle. It's boring, in Henry's opinion, but Lucius seems to be the sort of person who would like the fact that his host can show off.

The three sets of rooms that Henry shows to them are some of the best in the castle. They border the Family apartments and share the opulence that Sirius has never bothered to get rid of.

"These are the rooms we've set aside for you and your family, Your Grace," Henry says as he opens the door to Lucius's room. "There's a separate room set aside for Queen Narcissa to use should she require it." He dips his head in a less formal bow to Narcissa as he gestures to the doors a they've just passed, acknowledging that it will ultimately be up to her if she decides to use the rooms. "And for you, Your Highness," he says as he turns to their son, "we've set up these rooms." He leads the prince across the hallway to another set of doors, to a set of rooms that Henry has always liked. It's a slightly smaller apartment that is still lavish and handsome, but slightly cosier.

"Will we be alone for the duration of our stay?" Lucius asks, his tone slightly pretentious in a way that sets Henry on edge.

"The former Princess Andromeda will also be staying in rooms on this hallway along with her family when she arrives," Henry tells him. "It is an acknowledgement of your relation and her own to His Grace."

"Disgraceful," Lucius mutters as he enters his rooms and looks around. "I shouldn't be forced to share the same hallway as commoners."

"Nevertheless, you are," Henry says. His politeness to guests will only go so far, and Henry knows he has a soft spot for Andromeda. "She is his blood kin, after all, whereas you are not. If you're so offended by it, your Grace, we can see about putting you with the other royal visitors. The queen and prince will be welcome to stay here if they wish."

Lucius turns to glare at Henry but as he opens his mouth to speak again, he's cut off by Narcissa. "That's enough, Lucius," she says, and she turns to her son. "Draco, do you have any complaints?"

Draco—Henry resolves to remember his name this time—shakes his head. "It's more than adequate," he says before turning to Henry "Thank you."

"If you need anything, there will be staff positioned near the end of the hallway to help you, in addition to your own, of course."

As he leaves the room, he can hear Lucius complain more to Narcissa. He reminds himself that they are visiting dignitaries and that he's not allowed to be outright hostile. Not, he considers, that he'd want to be rude to Narcissa or Draco; neither of them have done anything to warrant rudeness just yet, but Henry finds his expectations dropping slightly for the Prince.

He takes the main hallways and corridors towards the kitchen, eschewing the privacy that the servants' corridors would give him in order to find either Sirius or Remus more quickly. Regardless of his own thoughts about Lucius, they'll both need to know that Lucius began making a fuss about Andromeda staying near them.

It could be nothing, but it could also be a terrible idea. Especially if Edward, Andromeda's husband, were to hear Lucius calling them commoners like there's something inherently wrong about that.

Henry wishes this fortnight were over with already. He doesn't want to worry about guests being rude to each other and to the staff; he doesn't want to worry about how his life is going to change when his reveal is over with; he's not even sure he wants to take up the mantle of king, but he knows he doesn't have a choice.

Henry manages to corner Sirius in the pantry. He’s eating one of the few bread rolls left that are supposed to go with their supper.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Henry says. "We're already short for tonight and you eating more of them is just going to make things worse."

Sirius swallows his mouthful of bread and looks at Henry. "And why are we short on bread for tonight?" he asks, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

Henry shrugs. "I was hungry earlier. I didn't realise Missus Molly hadn't made many extras. We're not used to hosting people who always expect a lot of things and I forgot."

Sirius looks sceptical and Henry knows why. Henry doesn't "forget" they're hosting another royal family, especially not when Remus has been drilling things into his head for the last month about it.

"You know what's going to happen tonight because of this, don't you?" Sirius says. "Lucius is going to say that I have no control over my servants. He’s going to say that Remus shouldn't be running the castle and he's going to imply that neither of us will have taught my ward anything he needs to know."

Henry nods. "He's also going to say something about how commoners can't be trusted with important things and how they should be kept out of the castle. He's already making a fuss about being on the same corridor as Andromeda. It's only going to get worse."

Sirius frowns. Henry thinks he's aware of how Lucius thinks himself above others, but he doesn't think Sirius thought through just how fraught and tense these next few weeks will be.

"How did Narcissa and Draco react?" he asks.

"The Prince was quiet; the Queen was embarrassed," Henry says. "I think I made things worse by pointing out that the king wasn't actually a blood relation and is therefore lucky we’re housing him so close to the Family apartments."

"Henry," Sirius scolds—or he tries to, there's too much humour in his eyes for Henry to take it seriously—"you're supposed to be a respectful servant."

"I'll be respectful to him when he earns it," Henry all but growls. "At the moment, he'll be lucky if I don't spit in his soup."

"You wouldn't?"

Henry sighs. "No, I wouldn't. But that doesn't mean I won't try to make things slightly difficult for him if his attitude towards us doesn't improve."

Henry leaves the pantry before Sirius has a chance to respond; he doesn't want to hear about how Sirius would love to make life difficult for Lucius while he's here but that discretion is the better part of valour, and that it will make everything so much sweeter when he's revealed to the public if Lucius knows that Henry's been doing his best for Lucius even while the king has been rude to him.

He makes his way through the servant passageways to his room, shivering slightly when he enters, because no matter how warm it is outside, this room is always slightly chilly. He grabs a blanket that he brought up in the winter and sits on the padded bench below the window. With the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and arms, and his leather jerkin keeping his chest warm and providing cover from the blowing wind, Henry sits, and looks out of his window, thinking.

He watches the city until the sun begins to dip downwards. All the time he's spent in this room and it's never occurred to him to bring anyone here. Not his friends, not the people he calls family. It's always been somewhere that he can simply forget about everything.

The last few weeks have brought a change to that though. He's never felt as confused about who he was until the build-up to his grand reveal and part of him thinks this is a disaster waiting to happen.

Either way, Henry doesn't have time to think on it now; he has to make sure Sirius and Remus are adequately dressed and then make sure everything is ready for supper. If there's one thing Henry has learned in the years he's been acting as Sirius's squire, it's that Sirius will leave absolutely everything until the last possible moment if he can and that Remus, despite being more contained in general, is willing to allow him the leeway to do as he wishes.

Sirius is, thankfully, already dressed for supper when Henry knocks on his door. Remus is nowhere to be seen, but Sirius assures him that they'll be there and on time.

Down in the kitchen, Missus Molly tells Henry that Fred and George will be ferrying the food to the dinning hall and Ginevra will be in charge of bringing the drinks to him. Henry gives Molly a kiss on the cheek before finding Fred and George.

The twins are in the larder; George is checking over the things they'll need for the evening, while Fred is looking with wide eyes at one of the new stags that is hanging from the ceiling, minus its head.

"I could never have brought that down on my own," Fred says. "I don't know how Gin got so good at hunting. Our mother would never have allowed it if it had been up to her."

"Sirius saw her practicing with a bow before you fell off the roof and was helping her out when she had nothing else to do," Henry tells him. "That was before I was fostered out, but even then, she was better than Ron ever was."

Fred looks over at Henry with a glint in his eye. "Come to tell us to make sure we do our jobs right, Henry?" he asks.

"Yes. Please don't fuck this up. King Lucius is already annoyed at us all because he has a room on the same floor as Andromeda. I'd like to show him we can be hospitable despite his rudeness. For now, at least."

"Is he that bad?" George asks.

Henry wants to say no, if only to limit the amount of damage Fred and George will do later, but he also knows that Lucius isn't going to get any better about it. "He'll get worse when the others arrive. I'm hoping it won't be too much for us to deal with; you know how Sirius can get."

George nods, but the look he exchanges with Fred leaves Henry feeling like he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Bring the first course up in thirty minutes, I don't want there to be enough time for Sirius to start an argument, and Lucius will  undoubtedly say something that Sirius won't be able to resist jumping on."

"What are the others like?" Fred asks.

Henry stops to think for a second. "Narcissa's fine. I'm not sure about the prince just yet but he doesn't seem to be as outspoken as his father, and he did thank me for showing them to their rooms."

"Withholding judgement on him then?"

"I'm not supposed to judge," Henry says. "I'm just supposed to serve."

On his way back to the dining hall, Henry bumps into Ginevra. He tells her the same thing he told the twins: make sure everything is good because there'll be time enough later to get revenge if it's needed. He also asks her to make sure the water is iced.

"No ale today," he tells her. "Wine and water only. If we don't have enough water drawn, then ask Ronald to get more. Everything needs to be perfect."

By the time Henry gets to the dining hall, Sirius and Remus are already there, both sitting at the table and talking quietly. Henry picks up the single jug of wine that's in the room and fills their cups, while Ginevra brings in fresh drinks for later.

Then, they wait.


	4. The First Night

Draco and his parents are led to the dining hall by a tall, thin redhead. His pompous rendition of the history of the tapestries they pass is nothing like the stories told by the squire who led them to their rooms. Draco doesn't want to admit it, not after the way the man he met earlier had spoken to his father, but he'd have preferred to be in that boy's company rather than this one's.

The hall is guarded by another redhead, this one a shorter young woman and when Draco and his family enter the room, they see the former king and the king regent sat at the table speaking with the squire from earlier. Lucius's stride falters for a brief moment, but he recovers himself quickly. 

"Henry," Sirius says. "Bring our guests drinks please."

Henry nods and returns with a jug of wine, pouring for Lucius and Narcissa first. He doesn't get a chance to pour for Draco:  he's placed his hand over his cup.

"I'd prefer water," Draco says, and the squire nods once more.

"Would you like ice, Your Highness?" he asks, and Draco can't help but think that his tone is deliberately bland for a reason.

Draco nods and then returns his attention to his parents. Lucius seems to be waiting for something and Draco can't help but hope that he's not going to cause a fuss this early in their visit. Narcissa, meanwhile, is picking at one of the bowls of sugared almonds that sits on the table.

The atmosphere is tense while they wait, each second seems to be drawn out longer than the one before and, to Draco. It seems like an age has passed before the cup-bearing squire opens the door and lets in two redheads bearing bowls.

The redheaded girl that stood outside the door comes in last. As her brothers place empty bowls in front of each person at the table, she puts a large pot with two handles and a lid in the middle.

"We're not exactly standing on ceremony," Sirius says. "We don't much see the point when there's just a few of us here. Next week there'll be feasts enough, but for now, you'll have to indulge in our regular meals."

The pottage in the communal bowl looks delicious, but the expression on his father's face tells Draco that Lucius finds it insulting.

Draco's sigh is almost imperceptible. He'd hoped they could go at least one day without his father being insulted by their host, but his mother was clearly right when she'd said that Sirius would push.

As the meal passes, Draco keeps an eye on the squire. He watches as the boy winces when Sirius or Lucius says something stupid and by the end of the meal, when the twins bring in some kind of jellied fruit, he looks as eager to be out of there as Draco feels.

When Lucius snaps his fingers and says "boy!" just a little too loudly to be polite, the squire drops the cup he'd been carrying and the full-body flinch is too much for him to hide.

Of course this starts Lucius up on how Sirius's servants are useless and with each word, he can see the colour drain from the boy's face. A glance at Sirius, however, shows that he's getting furious and it's not even a minute before Narcissa stands, Remus doing the same very quickly.

"I think we've had enough for now, Sirius," Narcissa says as she tugs on her husband's arm. "Thank you for the wonderful meal, but we'll all be retiring for the evening now."

She pulls Lucius towards the door and it's a sign of how far in his cups Lucius has gotten that he allows it.

"Come, Draco."

"Thank you," Draco says as he rises and rushes towards the door. He barely gets it closed behind him before he hears the shattering of a cup and the clang of one of the silver jugs against a wall. The muffled shout that follows lets Draco know that it was the squire throwing things, which doesn't endear him to Draco in the slightest, not that he actually blames him. His father can be an arse when he's had too much to drink.

He spends hours that evening lying on the comfortable bed in his chambers, thinking about the servant boy.

He knows that if the boy had been a noble, Draco wouldn't have thought his behaviour odd. But, the fact that he's a servant means that he should put his master's wishes above his own, and that if any of his father's servants had done what the boy did after their family had left the dining hall, he'd have been dismissed at the best. At the very least, Lucius would have had the boy flogged for his impertinence and, while Draco has always felt that his father's standards for their servants are high, he doesn't think that having a standard at all is too much to ask.

The idea that a former king and a king regent can't stop one of their staff from lashing out doesn't really bode well for how Sirius's ward has been raised and Draco finds himself less inclined to want a marriage with him now, even if he's never met him.

Or her.

It might actually be worse if the Prince he's been looking forward to meeting is a Princess.

From what Draco's seen of Sirius, he'd be likely to give in to a girl's every whim, regardless of how ridiculous it is.

When Draco realises the muffled shouts from the rooms his parents share have quietened, he decides he can no longer lie in his very comfortable bed thinking about things he cannot change. Instead, he puts on some clothes and leaves his room, content to wander for a while.

He sees no one, and before long, he knows he's hopelessly lost. He's almost thankful when he sees a door that's cracked open and the warm glow of a fireplace on the part of the room he can see; at least he can wait somewhere comfortable until he can find one of the house staff to lead him back to his rooms.

He's a little surprised to find that he's somehow managed to wander to the kitchens, but not nearly as surprised as he is to see the servant from earlier lying across the table, his legs hanging over the edge and his eyes closed.

Draco knocks into one of the chairs near the door as he enters the room and the boy's eyes open. It's amusing to see how many expressions flash across his face when he realises that it's Draco who's disturbed his quiet, and he sits up quickly, smoothing down the back of his hair.

"Is there something I can help you with, your Highness?" he asks.

"I think I'm fine for now, thank you..." he trails off, hoping the boy will fill in his name because Draco can't remember it. He's only heard it once and he didn't think it would be important, but Sirius clearly uses this boy for most things, so it would be better if he knew it now.

"Henry," he says. "I'm surprised you found your way down here."

"I was exploring," Draco tells him, his cheeks warming as he realises how childish that sounds. "I got a bit lost."

Henry smiles and Draco doesn't want to think it but it's an attractive look on him. "That can happen. Though, I'm shocked you didn't manage to see any other member of staff on your way down here." He frowns, and chews on his lower lip for a second. "I'll have to arrange for one of the gatehouse staff to spend the evenings inside if you're going to wander around and get lost."

Draco wonders how old Henry is. At first he thought he was at least a few years younger than Draco, but the way he's speaking now makes him seem older, closer to Draco's age.

"That won't be necessary," Draco says. "I only tend to walk around if I can't sleep."

Henry jumps down off the table in a way Draco should be appalled at—he's certain his father would be any way—and stirs one of the pots over the fire with a long-handled spoon. He looks up at Draco and the glow from the flames illuminates his darker skin and high cheekbones.

"I could get you something that could help you sleep, if you'd like," he says. "Miss Poppy is our castle physician, and she keeps an extract of poppy here for the staff's use when we can't sleep."

Draco blinks quickly at the idea that a woman is the physician in the castle when it should be a man's job, then realises that it's probably one of the less strange things he'll come across in London. Lord Sirius does a lot of things differently to his father, after all.

"That won't be necessary," he says again. "If you could show me back to my room though, I'd appreciate it."

Henry nods once. "Give me a few moments, I'll need to make sure the fires don't burn down while I'm taking you back."

He proceeds to do something with the fire beneath the pot he was just stirring at before heading over to another hearth and shifting the embers. He then adds a small log and covers it in ashes. Draco has no idea what the point of it is, but then, he's never worked a day in the kitchens before.

"Follow me," Henry says as he grabs a torch from the wall and leads Draco through a different door. "I'll take you through the servants' halls because it's quicker, but you shouldn't come through here alone. It's a lot easier to get lost and even we may not find you."

Henry turns to throw a grin at Draco before leading him up several flights of narrow stairs and through small corridors. Draco counts six sets of stairs, which makes sense to him. Their rooms are on the sixth floor, the highest they can get in the castle, but he stops when he sees another set of stairs leading even higher.

Henry must have realised he's stopped because the dim light of the torch he's holding gets brighter again. He looks at the stairs and scowls in a way that piques Draco's curiosity.

"What's up there?" Draco asks, and he looks back at Henry's face in time to watch him school his features, but not before Draco sees a flash of wistfulness.

"Nothing," Henry says and Draco wonders how he can tell that's a lie when he doesn't really know this boy. "Come, dawn is quickly approaching, your Highness, and it wouldn't do to be tired tomorrow."

"What's happening tomorrow?" Draco asks, trying to think if his father mentioned something before supper.

"Sirius hasn't told you?" Henry asks, before letting out a loud tut. "Of course he hasn't. Bloody idiot has probably forgotten himself."

"You should probably speak about your lord with a little more respect, you know," Draco says, bristling slightly. He's suddenly all to aware that this is likely how his house staff speak about him and his parents when they're not around to hear it.

"I'll speak about him with respect when he can remember to let his guests know their schedules for the days," Henry says, and he flashes that grin at Draco again.

Draco doesn't want to think about how he would feel if it got out that his servants didn't respect him, so he keeps his mouth shut, despite wanting to rip into the boy who seems to have ideas above his station. He tries to think about something else to speak with Henry about while they walk but before he can, they're exiting the hidden hallway from behind a tapestry that sits against the wall just down from his rooms.

He'd noticed it earlier, but he didn't take in the details that well; he'd mostly just acknowledged that the threads were beautifully bright. Now, though, he looks on it with awe.

"It was a gift from a Castilian family to the Blacks a few centuries ago," Henry says. "It's supposed to tell the tale of how the snake that tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden chose to protect a Rowan tree, and when that tree was cut down, the snake pledged her life and the lives of all her family to come to the family that planted a replacement. They said her eyes would kill anyone who looked upon them if they meant harm to her humans."

Now that he's looking at the tapestry properly, Draco can see the sheer amount of colours that are woven in; the emerald and gold threads that make up the snake, the greens and scarlets and browns that depict the tree, the incredible variety of blues that make up the sky and what he thinks is the ocean. Each one is incredible.

"It's nonsense, of course," Henry tells him. "There's no way a snake could kill with simply a glance."

Henry leads the way to the doors of Draco's room and with a slightly exaggerated bow, proclaims, "Your rooms, your Highness."

Draco thanks him absently, his mind still on the tapestry and its story.

"Oh," Henry says before he closes the door. "Sirius arranged for you all to go hunting tomorrow. That's what he forgot to mention. He said he remembered your mother being good with a bow and wanted to ensure that living in Wiltshire hadn't dulled her viciousness." The wry smile that crosses his face at this is something Draco wishes he could see more often, and that startles him slightly. "Goodnight your Highness, I hope you manage to sleep well."

The door to Draco's rooms shuts with an odd finality, and Draco's not sure he wants to examine what that means.


	5. Nothing

Draco's day of hunting is, in a word, eye-opening; Draco feels they all really learned a little more about each other. It’s nice, but seeing his father's reaction when his mother was revealed to be the better marksman is truly something that Draco doesn't think he'll ever forget.

By the time they've ridden the six miles or so back to the castle, Sirius is laughing at Narcissa out-shooting him and talking about someone called "Ginevra" while Lucius is loudly wondering if they'll be able to take supper in their rooms that evening.

As they dismount in front of the stables, a giant of a man takes the reigns for three of the horses, leaving Draco to dismount and hand his reigns to Henry who gives him a tiny smile. Draco feels better than he has in days with a ride in the fresh air behind him and he surprises himself by smiling back at the servant.

He finds himself wanting to ask about him, which is unusual; he wants to know how Henry became Sirius's go-to person for most things. He'd mentioned this line of thought to his father that morning after a surprisingly refreshing, yet still-too-short, sleep. His father had muttered something which he probably wouldn't have said in Sirius's hearing range and Draco had resolved there and then to put the idea of the young man out of his mind.

Seeing Henry again though for the first time since he'd led Draco back to his room has given Draco the words for the feeling he'd had the night before. He's attracted to this man and he can do nothing about it.

The idea that Draco's finally found someone he thinks is beautiful, just weeks before he's due to meet the man he's supposed to marry, is slightly heartbreaking to him. He'd had plenty of time as a teenager to "sow his wild oats" as his mother puts it, but he never did. Now he knows he must give up the idea of bedding this man if only because he's likely aware of who the Prince or Princess is.

Honestly, it's fairly typical of Draco to half-fall in love with someone he can't have. His closest childhood friend used to tease him that he'd likely be the only person to actually like his husband or wife from the first meeting, and while this isn't exactly the same, it's close enough that Draco feels like someone has been plotting against him.

Henry gives Draco a searching look and Draco feels his cheeks flush.

"Sorry," he says. "I was miles away. Did you say something?" _Manners_ , he thinks, _are a brilliant thing to fall back on._

Henry smiles slowly. "I asked if the ride was good for you, but judging how you're acting, I'd say it was fine."

Draco scowls at being caught out and, for a second, he thinks about walking away without another word. He consciously lets his expression soften into something neutral as he thinks about the implications of Henry's words. He also considers the fact that he's too far gone on a person he's known for all of a day, if he reads into the subtext of such a simple statement.

"It was pleasant enough after being stuck in a wheelhouse," he says. "I wouldn't have minded so much if Father had let me bring one of my own horses to ride from time to time on the way here."

"I understand what you mean," Henry says as he leads the horse Draco rode into the stable. Draco follows him without hesitation, his nose wrinkling just a bit from the smell. "I'd go mad if I had to stay in one of those things for two days."

As he watches Henry rub the horse down and brush him, Draco almost finds his mind wandering again. "Hmm," he says as he watches Henry. "You do look like the type who prefers the outdoors." He doesn't know what made him say it, but the part of the back of Henry's neck that Draco has been looking at flushes brightly. Draco smiles.

"What does that mean?" Henry asks, his eyes boring intently into Draco.

"Nothing, just that..." Draco feels a little uncertain for a moment, not sure how his statement will go over with someone who doesn't care what he really thinks. "You look like someone who likes to be outside," he finishes lamely.

Henry opens his mouth, then closes it again. He tilts his head as he thinks and chews on his lip. Then, without warning, he fixes Draco with a curious air. "Why do you say that?" he asks.

Draco thinks about it for a moment. He's not entirely sure himself why it came to mind except that Henry, and the way he behaves, and the way he carries himself, reminds him of some of the younger men he's seen in the smaller towns in Wiltshire: they're self-assured in a way that he doesn't think he is and their broad shoulders seem wide enough to carry their problems. It always reminds him that he'll never have to be like them; he'll never have to work like that a day in his life.

"I don't know," Draco says. He's lying of course, and he knows Henry can see that too. He doesn't want to mention that he's been brought up around pale-skinned people who look down on those with darker skin for having to work outside, but something tells him that Henry knows this anyway.

"Well," Henry says as he looks closely at Draco. "You're not wrong."

Henry finishes with Draco's horse and leads him back to his parents and Sirius.

"We'll take supper in our rooms this evening," Lucius is saying. "Come, Draco."

Draco lets out a tiny sigh and follows behind his parents. It's going to be a long evening with just them for company and he doesn't think he should be wondering about a servant boy he barely knows and when they'll get a chance to speak to each other again.

It's not until they're at the corridor leading to their rooms that Draco finally realises that his father is speaking again.

"It isn't normal, Narcissa, surely you can see that?" he says.

"You're seeing things where there's nothing to see, Lucius. Sirius is an honourable man, he wouldn't do such a thing."

Lucius lets out a snort. "It's obvious. Why else would Sirius keep a good-looking young man around if not to warm his bed?"

"The boy can't be any older than Draco," his mother says, colour rising in her pale cheeks. "If you honestly think my cousin would keep a child in his bed, then you do not understand what our family is truly like."

"Well, it's not like he could do it with just anyone," Lucius says and Draco can see him trying to downplay his accusation. It's one that makes Draco quietly furious but he's not sure why. "But a little orphaned street urchin; no one is going to care about him keeping the sheets dirty."

"Are you hoping for the chance to take him into your bed instead, Father?"

Draco doesn't know where the words come from; his father's face turns a grotesque grey colour and his mother turns on him in a second.

"That had better not be your intention, Lucius, or I might have to make sure you have an accident the next time we're taken hunting."

Lucius gapes like a fish for a few moments, but before he's had a chance to get his head working again, Narcissa speaks once more.

"I will be in my rooms. I will take supper there alone. I had better not find anyone in your bed should I decide to join you this evening. Good night, Lucius." She turns to Draco and smiles softly at him; he can only assume it's because of whatever expression is on his face. "Do be careful if you choose to go wandering Draco. This castle is fairly big and if Sirius has closed off the parts I think he has, then it may be awhile before we find you should you get lost."

Draco nods and wonders if his mother knows that he's already been told that. "Good evening, Mother," he says as he kisses her on the cheek and enters into his own room.

One of the servants has already been up into his room; they've put a large tub in one of the smaller side rooms and it's filled with water so hot that the steam curls up towards the ceiling, even in the middle of the summer. Draco is grateful for it as he strips and lowers himself into the tub, thinking languidly of Henry, the kitchens and the warm glow that lit his face as he stood near the fire, and the blush that Draco had provoked this afternoon in the stables.

Then he splashes the water with one hand and tries to clear his thoughts. There's no reason for him to dwell on Henry. He'll never have anything with him even if they were both inclined. He'll be meeting his likely-fiancé at the end of next week and he doubts he'll be able to think of him decently if he's still mooning over one of the house staff.

He can't help but think that his body's completely against him though, as he washes himself of the dust and grime of the day. His cock is half hard and lying against his thigh as if daring him to take himself in hand while thinking of Henry's messy hair, bright eyes and tanned skin.

He gives himself a perfunctory wash and climbs out almost immediately. After drying and dressing; he makes his way to the tapestry Henry led him through the night before.

He probably shouldn't come this way, but the path down to the kitchen is fairly straightforward and Draco swears to himself that he's not going to deviate from it.

His resolve lasts until he gets to the mysterious stairs that lead upwards and finds himself frowning. What was it Henry had said? There was nothing up there?

Draco didn't believe it then after days on the road and very little sleep, and he doesn't believe it now after a refreshing bath, food and rest.

His decision is made in an instant and he slowly climbs the stairs.

Draco enters into a room, which is his first clue that this is something different. He'd been expecting another corridor. The room is vaguely circular, which makes Draco think he's in a tower of some kind. There's a broken wardrobe on one side of the room, near a desk that looks like it was made from scrap, as well as a hard, straight-backed chair. There's a single window that looks out over the courtyard and a padded bench sits beneath it with a cosy-looking quilt thrown in a ball on top of it.

It doesn't look like nothing.

He moves over to the desk and sits in the chair, looking over the parchment-strewn top and glancing briefly at the drawers, Draco wonders who's been hiding away up here.

The answer is obvious, of course, and it comes to him within a second.

Henry.

He pulls out the top drawer, mostly to see what could be inside and it sticks slightly. At this point, Draco realises the furniture probably wasn't made by a master craftsman and he feels a reluctant sense of awe for Henry. He's not fantastic at everything he does, but Draco will honestly say that he's impressed by the skills he's seen so far, going as far as to add carpentry to that list.

After he jiggles the drawer open, he sees yet more parchment and a few small paintings that have been locked away.

"What are you doing?"

The voice interrupts Draco as he's reaching into the drawer to look at the pictures.

"You're not supposed to be up here."

Draco turns to see Henry stood in the doorway. His hair is rumpled and his eyes are darting between Draco's face, the open drawer and the desktop.

"You said there was nothing up here," Draco says. "Why did you lie to me?"

"Why are you in here?"

Henry's eyes are focused completely on Draco now, narrowing slightly in anger, if Draco was to guess.

"I was exploring," Draco says, a tiny grin on his face as he remembers saying the same words to Henry just the night before. "Why did you lie to me?"

All at once, Draco watches the fight drain from Henry. He watches as his shoulders slump and he walks over to the window seat, gathering the quilt and wrapping it around his shoulders.

"It's the only place in the castle where there are no expectations," he says and Draco stays silent.

He doesn't say another word, not for long minutes. He can wait Henry out if he has to; he's had practice holding his tongue around his father, after all. Behind Henry, behind the city stretched out in the distance, the sun begins its descent, the dying rays highlighting Henry's hair and face as he looks through the window and, hopefully, measures his words.

"Everyone always wants something of me," he says slowly, quietly. If Draco wasn't watching, he'd have sworn Henry wasn't the one to say it. "Everyone wants me to do something or be someone and here, I don't have to, because there's no one here and I can be..."

He trails off and Draco, in his head, finishes the sentence with Henry's reply from the night before.

Nothing.


	6. Decisions

Henry breathes slowly as he looks out over the castle walls, over the city walls, and to the lands beyond. He thinks, desperately trying to keep Draco from returning his interest to the drawer and the portraits within. They're the only pictures he has of his parents and he wants to keep them as his, as stupid as it seems.

It's just another reminder in his head that he's lying to a lot of people and has been since he learned to speak.

"Everyone in this castle thinks they know me," he says quietly, not turning to look at Draco, not acknowledging that there's another person in the room at all. "I'm the person most people turn to when they need something done, if only because I can get around more quickly."

He runs one hand through his hair as he thinks. He doesn't know where the words are coming from, but they're true: everyone looks to him for something, even if it's as innocuous as friendship. The problem is that he barely has time to breathe anymore, let alone to keep up with the friends he's made over the years in the castle.

The closer his grand reveal comes, the harder it gets to keep the secret of who he is from his friends, and he knows he's been pushing them away by dealing with other things for Sirius and Remus. Meanwhile, both adults have been drilling Henry on things he's known for years, reminding him of the duties he'll need to pick up when he takes over and putting pressure on him from that quarter.

Henry honestly doesn't think he'll be able to cope if Draco decides that he'd rather like to take over this room while he's here. There's nowhere else he's guaranteed to be able to be alone for a few minutes. It was why he'd come here now, after all.

"This is the only place I can just exist."

Gods, he can feel the yearning to have his space back. He can hear his longing as clear as day; he just hopes Draco doesn't know him well enough to detect it yet.

He's not spent much time with either of Draco's parents in the last few days, especially not compared to the time he's spent with Draco himself. He knows though, from what he's seen, that King Lucius would scoff, then probably ask what a servant like him needs to be worried about. There's still something about Draco that Henry thinks lends him an arrogant edge: it's the same personality quirk that Lucius has, but Henry can only assume Narcissa has more than enough influence over her son because instead of saying anything, instead of questioning Henry, he fidgets with a quill lying on the desk as though it's the most interesting thing in the world.

Henry studies him carefully; it's the first chance he's gotten to look at Draco and not be needed for something else.

At first glance, Henry thought Draco's hair was silver, like his father's, but the dying light of the evening sun picks out golden shimmers and highlights that make it seem like a warmer colour as it brushes his pale skin.

His jaw and cheeks are well-defined and although he's not a classically handsome person, there's no way Henry can say that he doesn't find Draco attractive. Both Draco's nose and chin end in points and Henry thinks that before he grew up, as a child who had lost their baby-fat, they were probably his most distinctive feature.

Draco drops the quill and looks at Henry intently. Henry feels the breath leave his lungs, and—for a moment—feels like he would imagine a rabbit feels in the seconds before death. His heart beats like a drum in his chest and he can feel his cheeks flush.

"There's something about you," Draco says in a voice quiet enough that Henry wonders if he was meant to hear it.

His eyes bore into Henry's and he can't turn away. Absurdly, Henry begins to think about the romance books that Hermione reads; he remembers her telling him that _of course things happen quickly, it's not supposed to be real._

This, he thinks, feels very real.

"I have to go," Henry says as he closes his eyes and forces whatever it is that he can feel brewing in his chest away. He squeezes out of the window seat and around Draco who's stood in front of him and runs down the stairs, into the servant's hallway before running as far as he can, as quickly as he can.

He'll be embarrassed later and he knows it, but the idea of staying in his tiny room with Draco terrifies him. He's out in the grounds and almost to the falcon's mews before he finally stops beneath an oak tree. Henry leans against the trunk and breathes for a few seconds. He drops his head back and looks at the cloudless sky as he thinks.

The realisation comes to him suddenly like a stroke of lightning.

Nothing can happen

Nothing can happen because after his reveal, Draco would think Henry tricked him. Any marriage they had would be tainted and if Henry married someone else, Draco might be able to claim that Henry—that _Harry—_ had promised himself to Draco.

If Draco didn't, then Lucius would.

Gods, this was just Henry's luck. He was mostly just glad that he had less than two weeks to deal with this before he could forget about it along with half his other difficulties that posing as a servant has brought him.

"Henry?"

Henry tears his gaze from the sky.

"Charles?"

Charles looks at Henry carefully for a few seconds.

"Everything okay?" he asks. "I don't normally see you up here."

Henry nods and walks across to Charles who seems to be on his way back to the castle, somewhere Henry should probably go too. "Just… problems," he says, not knowing how much he can say and still have it make sense.

"If you ever need to get away from the castle, I'm sure Bill would hide you," Charles says.

"Missus Molly will shout if she hears you calling him 'Bill'," Henry says, a smile stretching across his face as he falls into the easy camaraderie and brotherhood he shares with Charles and most of his siblings.

"Mum's never seen Bill threaten her with a hammer for calling him William," Charles grins at Henry. "Burns says he's almost ready to have his own striker."

"He'll have more work in the village compared to the castle's forge," Henry says. "Not much call around for armour and weapons now."

"Yes, well…" Charles tugs at the tail of hair that he's tied to one side. "He knows that Sirius and Remus often expect a lot from you. We’re not sure why, but he's said that you can stay with him if it all gets a bit much and you need get away for a day or so."

Henry stops walking and stares at Charles. His chest tightens slightly as he realises that he grew up with these men as his brothers. They don't know what his problem is but they're trying to help him anyway.

"Thanks," Henry says and they continue walking.

Hours later, when Sirius and Remus have retired to their suite of rooms and the fires in the main rooms have been banked, when the kitchens are silent and empty except for one small boy who's trying not to fall asleep, Henry makes his way back to his room.

Henry lets out a deep breath as he enters and sees that it's empty. He puts the torch he brought in the wall bracket and he sits at his desk for a second before he lets his head fall into his hands. Maybe a day or two away from the castle is really what he needs. Islington isn't the most fantastic city on their Isles but it's close enough that Sirius won't tell him no immediately. That he'll be with William will also help convince Sirius to allow it.

It's only been a few hours but already Henry is worried about running into Draco again and pretending that he wasn't almost overcome with the need to kiss him, that he wouldn’t rather the humiliation of running away over facing up to his problems properly.

Tomorrow morning, Henry decides. Tomorrow morning he'll see Missus Molly in the kitchens and convince her that he just needs a day away and that William mentioned staying with him. He can last one night.

Decision made, Henry makes his way to his bathhouse where he can clean up and then to his bedroom to sleep.

It's only the fact that the bathhouse is used by all the staff that stops Henry taking his half-hard cock in hand and relieving his tension that way. He resolutely ignores it until he needs to clean himself and even the few quick strokes of his hand are enough to bring his length to full hardness.

Henry bites his lip and ignores it, rinsing himself of soap with the icy water that's kept separately. It's almost enough and Henry hopes that the walk back to his room will ease him more. He doesn't want to spill himself thinking about Draco at all; that would be a step in the wrong direction. For now, at least.

Pulling himself from the pool of water, Henry shivers violently. The best thing to do, the most responsible thing to do, would be to pretend Draco doesn't exist as anything other than a visitor.

He's not the incredibly good-looking prince that Henry may marry.

He's not intelligent and easy to speak to.

He's simply a guest of Sirius's that Henry needs to be polite to at all costs, nothing more.

Henry can already tell it's not going to work from the way his mind wanders to how Draco's hair looked in the dying light and he groans, letting all the things he can't vocalise out into the sound.

He's wasted an hour he should have spent sleeping by the time he gets back to his bedroom;  he wastes a bit more by making sure every piece of clothing is tightly rolled and stored in the chest at the foot of his bed.

By the time he finally lies down, Henry is exhausted and can barely keep his eyes open.

If anyone had asked the next morning, Henry would have told them the sun woke him. In reality, he wakes slowly from a hazy dream that involved Draco, lying on his stomach and slowly thrusting his hips into his mattress. He shudders as he comes, swallowing as he remembers the details of his dream, blushing when he remembers how Dream-Harry had begged Draco for his cock and then he forcefully pushes the dream from his mind, along with the feelings he has about it.

Compared to how he felt last night in the bathhouse, Henry doesn't think there's a chance in hell that he could ever forget about Draco, not even for a night, let alone ten days.

Ten days.

That's how long he has left as Henry.

Henry bites his lip as he dresses.

Ten days.

If he's going to tell his friends, he knows he needs to do it soon. He doesn't want his birthday to roll around and to have to confess to them and spend days with them not speaking to him, especially since he'll be moved to the family wing on the same night as his party.

Ten days.

His decision made, Henry rushes out of his room and towards the family wing. He wants to get there before Sirius and Remus have a chance to head out and do their own duties for the day.

He knocks on the door to Sirius's suite and waits. Remus, ostensibly, has his own suite of rooms not too far down the hallway, but Henry knows that he spends most nights in Sirius's room.

It's a few minutes later before Sirius opens the door, his hair is a tangled mess and his grey eyes are tired.

"I need to speak to you," Henry says, the words out of his mouth before Sirius has a chance to say hello.

Sirius pushes the door open and lets Henry inside. "Remus was working late so try to be quiet," he says as he leads Henry to the padded benches and pours them both a goblet of water.

"I need to tell Ronald and Hermione." Henry manages to out the words before he freezes. He knows all his justifications but they all seem stupid right now.

"Okay," Sirius says as he sips at the cool water. "I'd expected it and now is probably a good time. Dora knows and she'll be here in a day or two. She never has been able to keep too much quiet, so now seems like a good time."

"Okay, good. After I tell them, I want to go stay with William at his home in the village for a day or two."

Sirius frowns and Henry can almost see his mind whirring as he tries to understand why Henry would want to visit William.

"Please, Sirius," Henry says. "It'll give me one last chance to see the city as a commoner and it'll give Ronald and Hermione time to think about everything before they see me again. Please."

Sirius nods and when Henry rides away, out of the castle gates a few hours later, he pushes away the idea that getting space is a mistake.


	7. Alone

Draco tries not to worry when the afternoon rolls around and he's still not seen Henry. This is a castle, after all, and there's a lot of work to be done, presumably. When Draco and his parents are escorted to the dining hall, it's by the same redhead that showed them their way on the first night. Draco comforts himself by thinking at least he'll see Henry while they're eating, even if he can't talk to him like he wants to.

Draco freezes when he enters the room and sees yet another redhead. This one, he hasn't seen before.

"This is Ronald," Sirius says as Draco and his parents sit down. "He's helping out for a day or two while Henry's otherwise engaged."

Ronald scowls at Sirius before glaring at Draco and his family for a reason that Draco doesn't know just yet.

"Pleasure to meet you," Draco says, disregarding his father's flaring nostrils as he treats Sirius's household staff as above their station. He turns to Sirius. "Where is Henry?" he asks.

Sirius gestures to the plate filled with bread rolls and the small bowl of butter before signalling to someone at the door to bring in the pottage he arranged for the evening.

"He had a few things to arrange in the city before Andromeda and her family get here," Sirius says. "He'll be back in a day or two."

Ronald grumbles and says something quietly that Draco can't hear, before Remus silences him with a look. Draco glances over at his parents in time to see his father roll his eyes and, with an almost imperceptible sigh, Draco settles himself in for a tense supper.

"When will Andromeda arrive?" Narcissa asks as she ate a mouthful of the broth from the soup.

"In two days," Sirius says. "Tomorrow we'll be away again so the servants won't disturb you while they're arranging rooms for her and her family."

"Ah, yes," Lucius says as he swirls his spoon through his bowl. "Your servant boy mentioned she'd be situated on our corridor."

"That's right."

"Right before he insulted us." Lucius drops his spoon into his bowl with a clatter and Draco wants to leave. He doesn't want to hear his father saying anything about the way Sirius treats his servants or his guests because when he thinks on it, Sirius's way of treating everyone is better, that his father's opinion that only people who deserve your respect should be shown it.

He likes the easy way Sirius's servants have around him, even if he doesn't think it's always right.

"It's hardly an insult to remind you that you're related to us by law, not blood, Lucius," Sirius says as he grins at Lucius. "It's a courtesy that you're put so close to the family wing. If you weren't here, no doubt Draco and Narcissa would be using rooms there instead."

Draco stifles a smile at Sirius's repeating Henry's words from the day of their arrival.

"Sirius," Narcissa says in a tone that's reminiscent of Draco's childhood. It's a tone that warns a person away from their current course of action, in theory.

In practice, however, Sirius grins and he seems like he's about to say something else before Draco hears a small thump and Sirius closes his mouth. Draco thanks all the gods that exist that at least one person sat at this table has sense other than his mother.

Sirius may think it's funny to rile up Lucius, but Sirius doesn't have to share a room with him or live with him afterwards like Draco and his mother; and they're both more than aware that Lucius can hold a grudge for a long time.

"I think it'll be nice for Draco to meet his cousin," Sirius continues before finally moving his gaze from Lucius to Draco. "She's mental, you'll love her."

Draco glances at Narcissa. Her face is set in a politely strained smile and now, all Draco can think about is what his aunt and her family are like if his mother is resorting to politeness and if Sirius thinks the family is fantastic.

No doubt they're crazy, Draco thinks, but he'll have to deal with it, for now at least. Draco continues to eat, slowly, while ignoring the rest of his family. He notices the redhead, Ronald, scowling intermittently at both Remus and Sirius and says nothing. It's not his place after all.

The supper passes slowly; the tension rises with each course and by the end, Draco is dying to leave the room and be alone so he can decompress. It's with a thankful sigh that Draco stands when the last of the supper dishes have been cleaned away and his father leads Narcissa out of the room with her hand cradled in the crook of his elbow. Draco follows, but not before thanking Sirius for the meal and nodding politely to the servants.

It's not something he would have done before coming here. It's probably not something he would have done had he not met Henry. But now, at least, Draco thinks he understands that servants are worth his respect too, not because they're his equal in any way, but because they do everything he can't and doesn't know how to do.

He also acknowledges that he wants the respect of his own serving and household staff and it's only after speaking with Henry that he realised that no matter how his staff treats him while he's in their presence, they won't actually show him respect when they're away from him unless he gives them a reason to.

He dares not think about how people talk about him or his father when they're safely down in the kitchens, especially not after he's seen the way Henry spoke about Sirius, a man that Henry clearly gets along well with at any other time.

But, he thinks as he closes the door to his suite, it's not as if Henry said anything that Draco wouldn't say about his own friends, or even to them.

Maybe that's why Sirius's household staff seem to like it here.

They're not treated as workers; they're treated like family.

For the first time in a day or so, Draco remembers that he'll likely be a part of this family soon. If anything, Draco's erstwhile feelings that he's not entirely sure how to categorise just yet can only help him when and if he does marry Sirius's ward.

He's supposed to be marrying Sirius's ward. Or he might. If the prince or princess finds him worthy enough.

He hasn't really thought about that at all. His mind has been occupied by a young man with messy hair and bright eyes that seem to see straight into Draco's soul. And yet, for all that, he’d seemed slightly terrified when Draco stood in front of him the previous day.

Draco thinks about how Henry looked, framed by the window with the day dying behind him, his face in shadows but his eyes focused intently on Draco. He'd watched Henry's eyes widen as Draco stepped towards him and when he'd stood, just for a second, Draco thought he was going to kiss him.

Instead he'd ran and Draco didn't know why, and that almost bothers him more than Henry running in the first place.

He wonders if the staff know he may be marrying Sirius's ward and if his attraction isn't as unrequited as he thought. It makes sense, after all, and Draco knows that with less than two weeks to go before he meets his betrothed, he should make an effort not to fall in love with someone he'll potentially be the boss of later.

He feels like screaming. He'd never understood when his mother said that love makes things more difficult and Draco knows he's definitely not _in love_ with Henry, but that doesn't stop his feelings complicating everything for him.

He sighs heavily and looks out of his window. The sky is an inky black and the clouds cover what little light from the stars and the moon that would normally have been there.

He cannot sit in this room churning his thoughts over anymore, so he heads for the one place he's felt most comfortable in the castle.

Henry's secret room.

The room is dark and cold when Draco gets there, and he looks around, briefly hoping that Henry'll be there.

He's not, of course. He's somewhere in the city, probably sleeping.

Without really thinking about it, Draco grabs the blanket that Henry had wrapped around him the night before and sits in Henry's seat under the window, looking out over the city. He wonders if he could see the building Henry's in from where he is and how he'd be able to tell. Past the walls of the castle, past the gates of the city, fields and trees and hills sprawl, looking like nothing more than dark lumps and bumps across the horizon.

Draco falls asleep without meaning to.

He dreams of Henry waking him and leading him to bed; he dreams of Henry's callused hands running across his bare skin; he dreams of Henry and wakes up hard, aching and cold.

The ache, Draco finds when he stands, isn't limited to his groin. He feels like he's fallen off a horse and then been trampled on, but the pain isn't enough to soften him completely, though it does make walking slightly easier when he no longer has to worry about a hard prick jutting out.

He loosens the laces of his trews and slowly makes his way back to his suite of rooms through the darkened corridors. He doesn't think he was asleep long; the sun is barely beginning to rise and Draco longs for a warm bath to start the day.

Instead, he washes in the basin provided for him in his garderobe and makes his way down to the kitchen.

The warm room is a hive of activity as everyone prepares for the day. The smell of baking bread permeates the air and Draco's stomach rumbles. A plump woman waving a wooden spoon is chasing various redheads out of the kitchen and Draco wonders, snidely, if there are any more of them, before the woman turns and sees him standing in the doorway.

"Your highness!" she squeaks out. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I..." Draco pauses. "Is there something available I could eat? If it's not too much trouble for you. I know you have a lot to do."

The woman nods and sets off to gather food, leaving Draco standing in the door while her children come out of hiding.

The youngest, the girl who went hunting with them, walks over to him, confident enough in herself that Draco's 'Royal' status doesn't seem to bother her.

"Come sit down," she says. "Mother won't let you leave until she's fed you up now anyway."

This, Draco thinks, could be a good time to figure out Henry, and also how the rest of the staff think about Sirius.

The overall consensus is that Sirius is immature, but that he looks after everyone if he can. Draco learns about the girl in the library who was orphaned when she was ten, and how Sirius took her in, educated her properly and gave her a job.

"As far as I know, he did the same thing with Henry, except he was a lot younger," Ginevra says. "Henry was raised by my mum until he was six. Sirius's grandfather said that he'd have to adopt Henry if he wanted to keep him, but he was still down here with us all the time, playing with him and teaching him things."

Ronald, the redhead taking over for Henry as Sirius's cupbearer, snorts and his sister turns on him immediately.

"I don't know what your problem has been the last two days Ronald but you't better knock it off. It's not the first time Henry's gone to the city for a day or two."

"Maybe I don't think it's fair that _Henry_ gets to visit _my_ brother and I'm stuck here doing all _his_ work."

"Maybe if you did something other than sit around and eat, you'd be used to doing half of Henry's workload and it wouldn't have been such a shock to you now," Ginevra retorts, a sweet smile on her lips.

Draco hides his smile behind his cup as their mother comes out to chase them to work.

"You're welcome to stay, your Highness," she says to him. "But I'm afraid we're going to be very busy."

Draco smiles politely and shakes his head. "It's fine, I should get ready for the day myself. Sirius mentioned going somewhere but I'm not sure where."

He wanders back to his room, passing a single guard stood sentry near the entrance to the hallway, quietly amused by the slight confusion that shows on his face.

Henry may have assigned a guard from the gatehouse, but it's a good job they're not at war anymore, especially if he's been sleeping on the job or absent altogether. Draco enters his room and knocks his head lightly on the door.

"I shouldn't be thinking about anyone this much." He looks at the bed, then to the trunk containing his clothes and his decision is made in an instant. He collapses face down on the covers and lets out a groan.

Part of him wonders if his life will go back to normal when he and his parents go back to Wiltshire, but at that point he'll either be engaged or half in love with a servant at his cousin's castle. Or both. Gods, he hopes it isn't both.

 


	8. Falling

Henry wakes to the sound of Bill hammering away in his forge. The clang of metal on metal makes a difference from waking up either hard and aching or covered in his own nightly emissions. He's enjoyed being here though; Bill's wife, Fleur, gave birth a few months ago, and it's the first time Henry's ever been around a newborn.

That probably has something to do with last night’s lack of sexual dreams about Draco, to be honest.

But...

He misses the castle. He’s only been away for a day and he can't wait to get back. He'd told Sirius that he'd ride back with Dora who would refuse to be in a wheelhouse, anyway. He finished his errands the day before and now he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. Since he was five years old, he's been busy almost all day every day, first learning everything he would need and then with his daily chores around the castle and doing what needed to be done. Part of him feels like he's spent his life running around for everyone.

He takes a deep breath and in the sudden silence, he feels all alone. It's more comforting than it should be; it reminds him of being hidden in his secret room.

He hopes Draco won't be spending any more time there. It was terrifying for him to walk into the room and see Draco looking through his things. He knows he has no right to tell him not to go there. It's technically a public room, for all that it's been closed up for twenty years or more.

Now that Henry has a few moments to think, though, he's not dwelling on Draco and his swift invasion of Henry's mind. He’s thinking about Ron.

Ron didn't take the news of Henry's identity well, and to be honest, Henry didn't expect him to. He remembers the strop Ron had when Sirius sent him to York. Hermione had been the one to bring him out of it, but now she's not happy with Henry either.

She'd looked betrayed. She'd asked him how much of his past was real, and that had led to Henry telling the story of his parents for the first time.

She'd understood, but told Henry that it still hurt.

Henry eventually gets out of bed and gets dressed. Fleur and baby Victoire are out for the day, so Henry heads for the forge and Bill. He sits out of the way, close to the door where he can get away from the heat. He sits in silence for another hour watching Bill rhythmically pounding at the sword he's making, folding the metal before cooling it and finally taking a seat near Henry.

He downs a cup of water, then another, before speaking.

"So, are you going to tell me why you've run away to the Smithy's when there's supposed to be a big to-do up at the castle in a week?" Bill asks and Henry feels a wave of fondness wash over him. Bill was always one of his favourite not-brothers, mostly because he seemed to know everything when Henry was a child.

"I can't just want to get away from King Lucius and his holier-than-thou attitude?" Henry asks, smiling slightly.

"You could," Bill says, reaching over and tugging on a lock of Henry's hair. "But you're more likely to annoy him into going home"

Henry bats Bills hand away and sighs.

"Listen, Henry. I know something's going on. I don't know who you really are but I have my guesses and so does Charlie, but whatever's going on right now, whatever it is that you think you can't handle, it's going to be fine. And if it's not, you've still got your family. Sirus, Remus, me, our brothers, Ginevra...we’re all here for you, no matter what happens."

Henry doesn't know if he should be surprised at Bill's insistence that Henry's not who he's said he is for the last twenty years, but he's ten years older than Henry is and probably has a clearer idea of how bad Henry was at hiding things as a small child. He's never really been subtle about anything, after all.

"I argued with Ron," Henry says. It's not his most pressing problem; that title goes to the blond prince who's slowly taken up every corner of Henry's mind. "And Hermione, but not really. Hermione understands, even if she's a bit upset."

"Ron speaks without thinking, Henry. You know that."

"I know, and I don't blame him for being mad at me. Not really. But that's why I'm here. Sirius agreed that if I was out of the way for a few days dealing with the things that needed to be dealt with here, then it would give him a chance to cool off and see things a little differently."

Bill runs his hand over the bristly hairs of his shaved head. "He's not wrong," he says. "Do you want to go back to the castle now instead of waiting for Andromeda?"

"No. Yes. I don't know," Henry covers his face with his hands. "I just wish my life wasn't so complicated."

Bill's laughter rings out through his workshop, echoing off the metal. "Everyone's lives are complicated, Henry. The best thing you can do is enjoy it anyway. Take risks if the rewards seem worth it to you. I did, and now I'm married to a beautiful woman with a beautiful child."

"That's your advice to me?" Henry says. "'Take risks'?" His tone is flat and he wants to say that the words don't inspire him to do anything, but he's not a liar if he can help it, not about something like this.

Bill smiles at Henry and they're both still laughing ten minutes later when Fleur arrives with the baby in a sling across her chest.

Henry spends the rest of the afternoon with the family in their cosy home. He cooks supper for everyone and sits on the floor with the baby, playing with her as she tries to grab at his hair.

Just as all four of them are going to bed, Fleur hands Victoire over to Bill and steps forward to hug Henry.

"Whatever my husband has told you is in good faith,  _ petit chaton _ " she says quietly. "But he is a bullheaded man; he doesn't understand that sometimes, when you love a person, the risks make it harder to see if it is worth it."

Henry draws back, slightly shocked. "I'm not in love," he says, trying to keep his voice down.

Fleurs smile is soft and her expression seems to say that she knows something Henry doesn't.

"I'm not," he repeats. He's not sure if he's trying to convince Fleur or himself which worries him. Eventually, he retreats to the spare bedroom, over-thinking every single action and word he's said around and to Draco. He's not sure if any of it means he's in love with him though, and he curses Fleur for putting the idea in his head.

He's still lying awake when Victoire wakes with a whimper, then a wail and in the moments between the sounds, Henry makes a decision.

He gets dressed quietly, listening to Fleur murmur soothing words to Victoire as she takes her to the sitting area to feed her. He leaves the bedroom to see her sat on one of the benches with Bill watching them both from the doorway to their bedroom.

"I'm going home," he says.

"Now? Henry, it's the middle of the night," Bill tells him in a tone that seems to want to be loud, but isn't in deference to the baby.

"I'll be fine. When Andromeda stops by, let her know I'm already back at the castle and tell her I'll be there to greet her, please?"

Bill sighs, shaking his head as he runs his hands over his face. "Fine."

"Thank you," Henry says, looking between both adults. "For everything." The next time he sees them he'll officially be a Prince. Of course, that's assuming he isn't murdered by his best friend, his best friend's family, the person he'd rather like to take to bed, or that person's father.

No, that last one would cause a war on the Isles.

The night air is cool on his face and by the time Henry reaches the castle he feels more refreshed than he should, considering dawn is only an hour or two away. Instead of letting Sirius know he's back immediately, Henry heads through the small passageways to his room in the tower. He should really just go to bed and let everyone know he's home in the morning, but he wants to know his room hasn't been touched since he left. He thinks it's stupid of him to be concerned over an empty room, but at the same time, it's his.

When he gets there, he's shocked to see Draco, curled up on the bench beneath the window, Henry's quilt wrapped around his shoulders, only his forehead and hair visible.

It's endearing, and Henry wonders if he'll wake up sore and stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position. Henry sits next to him and moves the blanket slightly so he can look at Draco's face properly.

Every feature is relaxed in his sleep; there's none of the tension Henry's seen a few times, and none of the confusion he's seen either. His eyes are moving quickly beneath his eyelids and Henry wonders what he's dreaming about.

Then they open.

Draco smiles when his eyes meet Henry's, and Henry's heart leaps. He's all too aware now of his hand holding the blanket down off Draco's face, close to his neck and the outlandish idea that he could touch Draco jumps intrusively into his head.

Henry can't stop looking at him: his eyes are hazy and he doesn't seem to be properly awake; his nose is a delicate line sloping to a point; his lips look soft and without thinking, without realising what he's really doing, Henry leans forward and kisses him softly.

And Draco kisses him back.

His heart is beating a violent tattoo in his throat, completely at odds with the gentle and comfortable atmosphere in the room. Henry lets out a tiny whimper and Draco takes over.

He kisses Henry like he's never been kissed before and never will again. Henry feels consumed by his passion and kisses him back with equal ardour. He lets his lips open, letting Draco's tongue into his mouth to taste him and he groans.

That's when Draco leans back, his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed and his lips slick with saliva.

"We shouldn't do this," he says, his voice quiet, but still shattering the silence around them.

"Wait, what? Why?"

"I can't." Draco shakes his head and tugs the blanket around his shoulders again. It's only there for a second before he throws it off and stands up. He's in front of Henry before he speaks again. "I want to, I really do. But I'm supposed to be marrying Sirius's ward. I can't sleep with someone when I'm betrothed. You understand that, right?"

Henry blinks a few times as he processes what Draco's said and he wants to laugh. "Okay," he says, moving his gaze from Draco and his beautiful face to the dusty floor. "I understand. I can live with that."

Draco grips his chin gently in one hand and moves his head so Henry's looking at him again.

"You have no idea how much I want to," he says before wrapping the blanket around Henry's shoulders, running his hand through Henry's hair, turning and leaving.

Henry's never wanted to break his cover so badly before, and he's already making plans to speak to Sirius and ask if he can let Draco know too; it's only just over a week until the ball for his birthday, after all.

In the end, he sits at the window until dawn breaks, thinking about the kiss and Draco's loyalty to a man he's never met because of a promise made generations ago.

He may not be in love with Draco just yet, but he's certainly well on his way to falling off the edge.

 


	9. Family

Draco has decided that he hates his life.

That's slightly melodramatic of him and he knows that, but he still curses his mother for instilling him with morals; he curses his father, who showed him how a man with loose morals can become; he curses Henry for being so attractive, and Sirius for employing such an attractive person; and he curses his grandfather, two generations behind him, dead, and still managing to mess up Draco's life. Or his sex life at least.

He spends most of the day in a daze, thinking about Henry and not meeting his eye whenever they're in the same room. It hurts to look at him and know that he has to deny himself someone he wants so badly, someone he knows wants him too.

He hasn't stopped thinking about the kiss they shared. It felt like fire through his veins and Draco wanted to burn forever. He doesn't think Henry would have stopped him if they'd gone further, but the way the smaller man had given way to Draco, let him take control, had made him hard enough to cut through iron and he'd gone back to his room and came within two tugs, imagining Henry spread across his bed, submitting to him that way.

Stood in the courtyard, the noon sun beating down on him, Draco waits for his mother's sister and her family. The gates are already open, and Sirius stands just in front of Draco and his family, his hands folded in front of him as he gazes out past the guards.

"How long has it been since you saw them, Henry?"

"Twenty minutes or so," Henry replies. "They'll have stopped at William's though, to see the baby."

"Does your sister not realise there are people waiting, Narcissa?" Lucius asks, and Draco tips his head back, silently begging for patience.

"My sister does as she pleases," Draco's mother says. "She didn't bow to our grandfather's wishes when he was king, Lucius. I don't think she'll bow to the expectations of a foreign king thirty years later."

A lone horse rides in first, its rider a woman who looks to be around 30 and, inexplicably to Draco, has purple hair.

"You have purple hair," he says, stupidly, and he flushes when he hears Henry's snort of laughter.

The woman grins at him. "Indeed I do," she says.

"How do you have purple hair?"

"Secret," she replies in a sing-song voice. "You must be my baby cousin."

"I'm 21 years old," Draco says. "I am not a baby."

"That's still younger than me and that makes you my baby cousin, Baby Cousin."

Draco almost scowls, then he remembers that he's 21 years old and no longer a spoiled child.

"It's good to see you, Dora," Henry says as he hugs her.

Draco hears his father muttering, it's not loud enough to be heard by Sirius, Henry or Dora, but it's loud enough that his words—and his meaning—comes across clearly to Draco. "Greeting servants before other guests, has she not been taught manners?"

"You're still tiny," Dora says. come across clearly to Draco. 

"I'm taller than you."

Before Dora gets a chance to speak again, Sirius interrupts. "Where's your mother?"

"She'll be here," Dora says airily. "You must be my aunt."

"It's an honour to finally meet you," Narcissa says. "This is my husband, King Lucius, of the lands of Wiltshire."

"I hope you don't mind that I don't curtsy," Dora says to Lucius. "Never really saw the point in standing on ceremony amongst family."

Draco thinks his father is going to burst a blood vessel in his head; he could grow to like his cousin, he thinks as he smiles. Lucius is, thankfully, saved from responding by the entourage that's escorting the wheelhouse entering through the gates.

Both Sirius and Henry look ecstatic when a woman Draco assumes to be his aunt steps out and looks around. She doesn't greet anyone at first; instead she walks straight over to Henry and pulls him into a tight hug

"I'm so glad you're here," Henry says, his face squashed against her neck.

"As am I," she replies before holding him away from her by the shoulders so she can look at him properly. "You look more like a man now than you did before," she says. "You looked like an overgrown puppy the last time I saw you."

"What is it with people and comparing me to baby animals?" Henry asks, but the grin belies his slighted tone. "You and puppies, Fleur and kittens."

"It's because you're so adorable," Dora says, ruffling Henry's hair.

Draco agrees in the privacy of his own mind. Henry is adorable, and that's part of Draco's problem.

Now that their guests are here, Henry is told to lead them to their rooms while Sirius drags Narcissa and Lucius away to do something else. Draco is left to his own devices until it's time for supper, when Dora hunts him down and drags him to the dining hall where she monopolises his time and he gets to know her a bit more.

He learns that she's clumsy, can't really keep her opinions to herself and is completely unapologetic about who she is. She tells Draco that she colours her hair using various berries if she wants a weird colour, but she uses henna to make it a more natural one.

"Red berries for pink hair, blue and purple berries for this colour," she says. "It's difficult to keep it like this in the autumn and winter when there aren't any berries around so I use the henna to make it look nicer when it starts to fade."

"That's...actually extraordinary," Draco says. "I'd never have thought of that."

"I think you'd look great with purple hair," she tells him. "And that blond would take the juice colour so well, too."

"Er, no, it's fine. I rather like my hair as it is," Draco tells her.

Dora shrugs as she dips her spoon into her bowl. "Suit yourself," she says. "But if you ever change your mind, let me know. I can make sure you don't miss any spots."

It’s still light out when they finish supper and while Lucius retreats instantly to his rooms, Narcissa and Andromeda sit at a table in the castle gardens catching up on each other's lives while Sirius and Remus sit near the doors. Henry and Dora are also there, playing some kind of game together, and the thought crosses Draco's mind that this is what a family should look like, not the stiff formality that he grew up with.

He kisses his mother on the cheek before he leaves, aware of Henry's eyes on him, and is thoroughly shocked when his aunt hugs him as tightly as she'd hugged Henry earlier that day. "It's been wonderful to finally meet you," she says to him.

Back in his room, Draco has a chance to think about the events of the day, including his father's rather rude behaviour as far as his aunt and her family were concerned. Dora has been a blessing, keeping Henry occupied and keeping Draco out of his own head, stopping him from over-thinking anything. Now that the sun has set though, he's in his suite of rooms alone and Draco can't get Henry out of his head.

"This is stupid," he mutters to himself. "I'm not a love-sick young lady. I can be around a person I'd like to bed and not think about it at every second."

Draco's always been rather good at lying to himself, but it's not until he's walking up the steps to Henry's secret room that he realises how good he is at it. He pushes open the door, expecting the room to be empty. Instead, Henry's sat at the desk with a quill and inkpot, writing something. He looks up when the door bumps the wall and his mouth makes a tiny "o" of surprise.

"Do you mind if I sit up here?" he asks, feeling somewhat self-conscious.

Henry blinks rapidly a few times, like he wasn't expecting the question, before nodding, and Draco looks around for a second before seating himself on the hard floor next to the door.

He doesn't want to think about what it says of him that he's chosen to sit near the door, and on the hard, stone floor, instead of on the comfortable bench beneath the window. The silence in the room is only broken by the scratching of Henry's quill. Draco closes his eyes and tries not to think, absorbed by the safe, normal sounds of a person writing, and simply being in company that doesn't require conversation to be comfortable.

It was a few minutes later when Henry stopped writing, but Draco kept his eyes shut, his head resting on the wall behind him. He can hear the rustling of Henry's clothes, and he imagines, for a moment, that his life after the ball, his life after he's found out if he'll marry Sirius's ward, is as quiet and comfortable as this.

He's not startled when he feels something touch his little finger, but he opens his eyes and without really moving his head, he looks down.

It's a tiny thing, his and Henry's fingers touching. They’re not interlaced and there's no desperate clasping; it's just the comforting presence of another person in the still, quietness of the room.

Henry is the one to break the silence.

"Sometimes I hate my life," he says."Sometimes I feel like I'm bending to the whims of destiny and fate and nothing I can do will change that."

"Do you believe in destiny?" Draco asks. "Or fate?"

Henry lets out a huff of air. "Sometimes," he replies after a few seconds."Sometimes I hope there's a reason for all the suffering everyone goes through, and other times I think that it can't possibly be anything other than...I don't know, humans being horrible or whatever."

Draco meets Henry's eyes for the first time since he left that morning and the clarity of their colour startles him slightly. His dreams and fantasies have not done them justice.

"Do you ever feel like that?" Henry asks. "Like your life isn't your own. Like you're living out someone else's ideals in spite of what you want."

Draco thinks about how close Henry is to him, how easy it would be to pull him onto his lap and kiss the breath from his lungs. "Yes," Draco says.

"Probably worse being a prince compared to being a pauper in that respect," Henry says with a laugh.

Draco doesn't really know what's so funny about the statement, but he understands Henry's probably laughing at something it's reminded him of.

"I wish...I wish that just for one night, I could forget about everything. It's why I come up here."

"To forget?"

"Yeah." Henry rolls his head so he's looking at the ceiling. "Or to remember, maybe." Without warning, he stands and walks across to the desk. He opens the top drawer, the one he'd asked Draco not to look in, and pulls out a small canvas. It's small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. When he sits back down, he shows it to Draco.

"This is my mother," he says.

The portrait is of a small girl, probably no older than ten or eleven years old. Her red hair is beautifully curled and her eyes are as bright as Henry's. She looks vaguely familiar, but Draco can't place where he may have seen the older version of her.

"She died when I was a baby. Her and my father. I was just a few months past my first birthday and they were killed."

Draco isn't sure what to say, so he hands the portrait back and lays his hand across Henry's, hoping that will offer him some comfort.

"I wish I knew her. Sirius and Remus, they tell me stories about her and my father, but it's not the same, and they only tell me the good parts so she doesn't seem real to me."

"What about your father?"

"He does seem real, but I still wish I knew him."

"Why does he seem more real to you than your mother?" Draco asks.

"Sirius and Remus were his best friends. They talk about him like he could do no wrong, but the castle's herbalist, Master Snape, he also knew them. He and my father didn't get along that well. When I was younger, he used to like telling me about all the horrid things my father could and would do to people he didn't like."

"That seems cruel."

"I used to think so too," Henry says, and he has a wan smile. "But the older I got, the more I realised that I'd never really hear about any of this from other people, so I accepted it. When I was nineteen, Master Snape told me that my father did eventually grow up, that my mother would have had it no other way. He told me my father would be proud of me." Henry closes his eyes and for a moment, Draco thinks he's done, but then he speaks again. "It meant more, him saying it, than it does when Remus or Sirius tell me it."

He stands and puts the small portrait back in the desk drawer.

"We should probably go. I need to sleep and you should too."

Draco nods and follows him down the stairs. At the bottom, Henry grabs the torch in the bracket on the wall. "Would you like me to walk you back?" he asks.

"No, thank you. I'm fine." He's far from fine; Henry's story about his parents is rolling around his mind, but he doesn't say anything. "Goodnight."

He watches as Henry moves down the corridor, watches until he turns a corner, then he leans against the wall. "I'm fucked," he says into the silence.


	10. The Ball

Henry wakes the next morning feeling lighter than he has in a long time, and it's not until he remembers sitting with Draco in his tower room that he realises why he feels so good. He thinks about the comforting silence of simply existing around another person and he thinks about how Draco had touched his hand to comfort him. He thinks about how it felt so much easier to tell the story of his parents to Draco and how much easier it seemed than when he had to go into detail about it with Hermione. Of course, the difference was, Draco didn't know Henry was a prince yet.

That would make things more complicated. Henry'd tried to drop hints, but Draco either didn't pick up on them or he dismissed them completely. It's only when Missus Molly tells him he's been singing or humming for most of the day while he works, that Henry concedes to himself that he may have more than just a small crush on Draco.

Sirius has forbidden him from revealing who exactly he is and a few minutes snatched away to speak with Andromeda told Henry that she agreed with him completely. Despite that, Henry can't wait for the sun to set and for himself to be free. He's always retreated to this room to be alone; now he's finding himself seeking it out to be with another person. It troubles him that he's become so used to it in the past few days. He wouldn't mind hiding his thing with Draco and keeping it locked away in his room like almost every other part of himself that threatens to give him away as Harry the Prince rather than Henry the servant. However, over the next five days, Henry is lucky to get a moment to breathe, let alone sneak away to a hidden room on the seventh floor.

The castle gets busier the closer they get to the ball and Henry sees Draco just once on their own, where Draco tells Henry about growing up with a father who was more interested in what a son represents than his actual son. He says that his childhood was probably the idyllic countryside childhood though, something that Henry feels surprisingly jealous about, though he doesn't know why exactly. Henry decides later that night it's because the descriptions Draco gave of playing in the gardens only to run into his mother's arms at the end of the day was what caused his sudden and out-of-character jealousy and resolves to be better about it.

He meets the three other people he's supposed to be selecting his spouse from three days before the ball, and although Zabini is interesting and the Patils are honestly beautiful, none of them seem to spark his interest as much as Draco did. Henry is consistently polite to them all and crosses Zabini off his list when the swarthy Italian is rude to Hermione in the library.

The day before the ball, Remus summons Henry to his study.

"Sit down, Henry," he says, and Henry immediately does so, mostly because Remus doesn't tend to give orders. "I've been going through the contract that Sirius's grandfather and Lucius's father signed. I'm not sure how to tell you this since it's the one thing Sirius and I said would never happen..."

"Just spit it out, Remus," Henry says. "It can't be that bad and I have a lot of things I need to do before tomorrow."

"You don't have a choice about whom to marry, at least, not without setting your children up to marry Draco's offspring."

"What are you talking about?" Henry asks. "You said there was nothing tying me to it if I didn't want it to because I'm not actually blood related to Sirius."

"That was what we thought, but I've asked Andromeda to take a look too and she agrees. You have no choice but to marry Draco."

Henry wants to laugh. He'd made his decision almost a week ago that it would be Draco despite the other options he had but he didn't imagine that choice being taken away from him. Part of him wants to rebel because it's just like he told Draco about destiny and fate ruling his life. On the other hand, it does mean that Draco can't possibly reject him for being a liar tomorrow when it comes out that Henry is Harry. He nods answers to Remus's questions and when he's finally dismissed, Henry retreats to finish his usual tasks before hiding in his secluded room.

He thinks, with time, he'd be able to convince Draco it wasn't a joke at his expense or something similar, but to do that, Henry'll need to see him before the ball. If he can tell Draco the truth while they're alone, Henry thinks Draco will be a lot more forgiving that if it's sprung on him when Henry enters the ballroom dressed as a prince.

But Draco doesn't sneak up to Henry's room that night, and Henry spends the next day with Tonks and Andromeda who are making him look pretty for the masses. With each minute that passes, Henry feels more and more ill. He walks past the ballroom just once after the ball has started but before he's allowed in, he almost throws up when he sees how crowded it is there. A glance of a person with pale hair stood near the windows settles his stomach but makes his heart beat faster. When he's ready, dressed in rich clothing, his hair tamed by Andromeda and his feet in a pair of the best leather boots he's ever worn, Henry—no, Harry—is almost ready to be announced.

He stands near the door where he'll make his grand entrance and he watches Andromeda hurry into the room with as much grace as she can, which is a lot. From behind the doors, he hears the band's music quieten and footsteps leading to the dais where he'll enter. _That must be Sirius_ , he thinks and he can feel his palms start to sweat. He wipes his hands on a handkerchief he's sequestered into his pocket just for this reason, and listens carefully.

"We're all here tonight," Sirius begins, his voice muffled behind the barrier of the door, but still clearly audible, “to meet my heir, the person who will take over the ruling and the running of the Country of London. But that's not the only reason, though. This one, you're all mostly unaware of." Harry sucks in a deep breath and wonders if Sirius is doing this to keep them in suspense or just himself. "My heir turns twenty-one today, and this celebration is his first since he was a year old. I've tried to raise him properly, and I've had a lot of help." There's a moment of silence before murmurs rise up from the gathered nobles. Harry isn't sure what Sirius did, but it's enough that Harry feels worse now.

"My heir," Sirius says once again and Harry is beginning to think that Sirius is doing this solely for his benefit now. "He's a wonderful person, he's quick-witted, intelligent, funny; he's kind, he does things for others without thinking; he can be vicious if you get on his bad side. He's all the good parts of his parents and more, with a few flaws of his own to set him apart. His name is Harry."

Harry straightens once more and waits. The doors creak open slowly and Harry steps from the darkness of the corridor and in to the light shining upon the dais.

He looks around carefully, his eyes seeking out blond hair. Draco hasn't moved from near the window. There are no words for the way he's looking at Harry. He looks furious and betrayed.

The people who recognise him from around the castle are slightly shocked. Narcissa looks slightly unsettled, but Lucius looks scandalised and is darting his gaze between Harry and Sirius. Harry's smart enough to know what he'd been thinking while he was here and can’t be sure that the looks now mean that Lucius was wrong, or if he’s working their relation into the scandal too. In the space of a few seconds though, Lucius's face drains of all colour and he turns to Narcissa and begins whispering to her.

Harry spots Bill and Fleur, their arms around one another, also looking at Harry. When they catch his eye, Fleur gives him a wide smile and Bill winks at him. Harry knows he'll have to speak with them both soon, but not just yet.

Sirius leads him down off the dais and begins to introduce him to everyone properly. Each person, in increasingly uncreative ways, tells him how happy they are to meet him properly and asks him not-so-subtle questions about why Sirius, and later he, decided to raise him as a servant, but they brush them off easily.

It's still three more hours before Harry can escape and he declares quietly to Remus on his way out that he won't be coming back. Instead of heading for his new bedroom on the Family Wing, or at least a bedroom he's openly allowed to use now, Henry makes his way to his secret room.

He'd hoped, but he'd never actually expected Draco to be there. He's sat on the edge of Harry's desk, and in his hands is one of Harry's larger portraits. He knows every detail of it thanks to hours spent hidden in this room looking at it, looking at all the ways he could see his parents in himself. Harry glances towards the drawer and sees its contents no longer ordered neatly, but scattered. His parchments, what could amount to his journal, are thrown down on top, each looking like they've been tossed down individually.

"I wanted to tell you," Harry says, no longer being able to bear the silence. "The day after I kissed you, I asked him."

"You lied to me." Draco's voice is icy and Harry wants to hide away from it.

"I didn't want to," Harry says. "I wanted to tell you as soon as I realised I wanted you. Sirius thought it was too risky."

"You should have told me anyway," Draco says. He puts down the portrait with a care that Harry hadn't expected and he strides towards Harry and the closed door.

Harry half expects Draco to push past him. Instead, he pushes Harry against the door and kisses him, his hands running down the length of of Harry's arms, to link their fingers together, and then draw them above Harry's head. Draco pushes against him, so their torsos are pressed tightly together and he slots one of his legs between Harry's. His lips move from Harry's and he lets his teeth drag against Harry's jaw as he moves to press his lips to Harry's neck.

"Do you know how much I wanted you this week?" he asks, and his voice is rough and low; it sets something burning in Harry. "Do you know how much I wanted to claim you in front of your ‘guests’ just because they thought they had the right to flirt with you?"

Harry tries to think, but between Draco's hot breath on his throat, the feel of his leg pressing against Harry's cock, and the way his fingers are tightly holding Harry's hands to the door, Harry's got no chance. "I...I don't..."

"Zabini," Draco growls and Harry feels teeth on his neck.

"Could never stop thinking about you," Harry admits. He feels like he's drunk, he can't control his words and all he wants is more of whatever Draco will give him. Harry feels like he can feel his heart beating in his throat and he stupidly prays he's not going to drop dead before he can taste Draco again, when that quickly becomes the second worst thing that could happen to him.

Draco pulls away. Again.

The first time it had happened, after their first kiss, Harry'd wanted to laugh; now, he was all but sure he'd burst into tears if Draco told him he couldn't do this. Harry would have no one to blame but himself and he felt like it would kill him.

As soon as his hands are free, Harry throws himself at Draco and hugs him tightly. He steels himself for a few seconds and then says, as quietly as he can while still being audible, "There's more."

 


	11. Aftermath

Draco stands stock-still with Henry's—Harry's—arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"What do you mean?" He asks. He's expecting more lies, more hidden things, but Harry shocks him completely.

"I'm not just Sirius's heir," he says, quietly, still holding tightly to Draco. Draco can't help himself from wrapping his own arms around Harry's waist and relishing the feeling of him pressed against him, knowing that they're allowed to do what he wants now.

"What do you mean?" he asks, though he has an idea. He saw a picture of Harry's parents together and recognised his father immediately as the Prince of the Hollows as the West Country was called in Wiltshire. The gates to the royal city, Godric's Hollow, had been closed twenty years ago due to the deaths of the not-yet-coronated king and his young queen. While their son's birth had been announced to the Isles at large, no one had ever seen the child. Draco remembers his father telling him the story of how the kingdom next to theirs had suffered harshly under the fallout of King Riddle's deposition and his failed campaign to unite the island. Draco hadn't cared what happened to the land as a child, but now he wishes he'd learned more about it.

"My parents were the king-in-waiting and his consort," Harry says. "They weren't crowned before Riddle killed them both. I was rescued only because my parents were travelling mostly alone down to London. The only other person with them was Severus, our Master Herbalist."

"He works here now?"

"He promised to look after me; he promised my mother, just like Sirius promised my father."

"Your parents were said to be the ones who ended the False King’s tyranny in the lands he held," Draco says.

"None of us know what happened, Master Sev was the only adult to survive and he's always said he can't remember," Harry says. "I've always thought it was the truth, up until I was around fourteen."

"What happened then?" Draco asks. He doesn't want Harry to know exactly how interested Draco is in learning about his past, but he can't help but ask questions, especially now he seems to be getting full answers rather than vague half-truths.

"I realised Severus would never have let my mother die if he could have prevented it." Harry seems to hide his face in Draco's neck. "I didn't get to ask him about it until I came back from York when I was almost seventeen."

"Why were you in York?" Draco asks before he remembers his aunt Andromeda, Sirius's cousin who had been cast from their family by Draco's great-grandfather for marrying below her station. "Andromeda and Dora know the truth then?" he asks, mostly to confirm his guess.

"Yes," Harry says. "As far as I know, Andromeda's always known, but Dora found out while I lived there."

"Who else knew? Before today?"

Draco feels Harry take a shuddering breath. "Missus Molly and her husband knew, they've always known. I told Ronald and Hermione the day I went into the city, I also found out then that Missus Molly's eldest sons have long thought that I'm not the simple servant I claimed to be."

Draco wants to pull Harry into another kiss, but he knows they'll need to talk about this at some point so he's determined to get it done now. He still feels slightly betrayed but he understands it better now. He understands that Harry was hidden away for his safety.

"I wanted to tell you," Harry says in a voice so quiet and small that Draco barely hears it; when he does, he tightens his arms around Harry.

"I know," Draco tells him, and he moves them away from the door finally, to the padded bench where they can sit.

Draco pulls Harry into his lap so that his legs are folded on either side of Draco's and Draco kisses him again, this time with a softness that hints at forgiveness; with less of an all-consuming need, but still with the fire that promises intensity in their eventual relationship.

He feels Harry's hands in his hair and the faint scratch of nails on his scalp and Draco lets out a groan as he nips at Harry's lip.

He's never felt more glad that no one besides Harry has ever come in here while he's been here. Draco doesn't know how he'd manage if Sirius or Remus or, gods forbid, his parents came into the room. Instead, he can kiss Harry breathless and trail kisses down his slender throat without the worry they'll be interrupted, but also with the assurance that neither of them will be reprimanded for fornicating before they're married.

As Draco moves to unlace the layers of clothing that separate them, Harry does the same. Soon, the clothing that covered their top halves is lying discarded on the floor behind Harry and Draco's lips are once again firmly attached to Harry's skin.

Draco brushes one hand up Harry's side and feels him shudder before he lets his thumb trail across one of Harry's dark brown nipples. Harry groans and drags Draco's mouth back to his own, and Draco can't take it for much longer. He brings both hands around to cup Harry's arse, drawing him in closer, tighter, then he rolls his hips and lets out the most indecent moan when he feels Harry's cock pressed against his own through their britches.

"Oh," Harry breathes. "Draco, shit, do that again."

So he does. Soon, Draco is rolling his hips and dragging Harry down as if they were naked and making love, but there are layers of cloth still between them and Draco thinks this doesn’t so much border on the territory of 'making love' than of 'coupling with a wild and unstoppable passion'. He finds it harder to think the longer he looks at Harry. He has his hands resting on Draco's shoulders and his head is thrown back. A deep flush covers his face, chest and neck and Draco thinks this view is better than the one he'd imagined of Harry spread across his bed.

"So beautiful," he mutters as he leans forward and captures one of Harry's nipples in his mouth. He feels Harry's fingers tighten in his hair and tugs him once more to Harry's lips.

Then, all Draco can feel is the chill of the wind from the window behind him.

Harry's stood a few feet away from him, panting for breath as his fingers touch his lips. They’re swollen from Draco's kisses and gentle bites, but it serves to make Harry look slightly debauched as he stands half-naked in the moonlight.

He also looks like a piece of art set out just for Draco to view and Draco bites his lip as he lets his gaze wander down Harry's solid but still slender chest, down to the trail of hair leading to his loosened britches and the tiny patch of wetness forming where Draco can see the swelling of Harry's cock.

Harry's looking at him with a single eyebrow raised when Draco's gaze finally returns to his face.

"If I could only look at a single thing for the rest of my life, it would probably be you," he says with a lazy smile. It fades when Harry leans forward to kiss him, carefully making sure no other part of their bodies touch.

"Not tonight," Harry says. "Soon. I don't know how long I've been up here but I'm supposed to meet with Sirius after the ball to discuss how everyone's taking the news."

It's only then that Draco remembers that he wasn't the only person Harry was revealed to tonight, but half the country's nobles and several royal families from other countries.

And his father.

The groan Draco releases makes Harry laugh and also makes Draco distinctly aware that it's not the sort of groan he'd have made ten minutes ago. He drops his head into his hands and, with great difficulty, tries not to think about Harry mostly naked in front of him as well as his father and the discussion they'll be likely to have

"I probably need to get back to my own suite too," Draco says when he finally lifts his head, his prick soft and thankfully not trying to grow again at the sight of Harry leaning back on his hands as he sits on the floor.

"At least you can honestly tell your father you had no idea I was a prince when he was making lewd remarks about my being kept around as a bedwarmer."

Draco winces, He'd not forgotten that, exactly, and he'd been furious with his father about it when he thought Harry was just a servant, now though, he dreads to think what his father will be like. He doubts this is a position any of them have ever been in, but it'll be the first time Lucius has had his past actions thrown back in his face in such an obvious way, at least that Draco has seen. It'll likely be one of the only times Lucius won't be able to use his position as a king to buy his way out of trouble.

"People don't pay attention to their servants, let alone anyone else's," Harry says. "That's often their downfall."

Draco watches as he stands and dresses, acutely aware he'll need to do the same soon. "One last thing," he says as a thought crosses his mind. "Andromeda knew, but my mother didn't. Why is that?"

Harry sighs and slows as he laces his shirt again. "I only know what I've been told, so it may not be accurate," he says as he turns to face Draco fully. "Sirius knew Andromeda had no contact with Bellatrix, her sister, your aunt. She's married to the former King Riddle's son but after he was deposed, his son could no longer inherit the throne. Sirius said he was worried there'd be retaliation. I've only met them once but I agree, they were right to keep me hidden from them at least. Sirius wasn't sure how close your mother was to her sister, especially given she rarely spoke to Andromeda. Sirius thought it was better to have me safe."

Draco can understand that. He's met his other aunt a few times and she's always scared him. The one time he'd met her husband, he'd refused to be alone with him at all. He didn't know why at the time and he still doesn't, not really, but he recalls his mother saying that he'd been caught fornicating with one of the stableboys here and he wonders if that was all that had happened.

"I'll see you soon," Harry says, and he quickly kisses Draco once more, his lips barely touching Draco's before he pulls away.

Then he's gone, and Draco's alone, but for now, he feels good. He's not looking forward to seeing his father, but he thinks he and Harry have a chance of being one of those rare arranged marriages where the couple actually falls in love.

He hopes they do. He thinks he could spend an eternity learning about Harry and it still wouldn't be enough.

By the time he's dressed and making his way back to his suite of rooms, hoping to avoid his father, Draco feels more like himself than the giddy, entranced boy he'd been upstairs and, while he'd been more interested in finally kissing Harry again, he did actually remember their discussion. He knew he logically couldn't be too mad at Harry, not really, and he didn't want to be. He knew he could be mad at Sirius for hiding it, for not letting Harry warn him, but that seemed like a waste of time and energy. He would accept it and hopefully he wouldn't alienate his own family for simply accepting the secrecy.

He entered his room grateful that he'd avoided his parents, only to enter the sitting room properly and see both of them sat on one of the padded benches near the small fire.

He'd honestly been hoping to avoid this discussion, at least for tonight, but with both his parents there, Draco couldn't see it happening. He could tell his father was furious, but his mother's face seemed blank. Sighing heavily, he sits down, hoping it would be over quickly.

 


	12. Epilogue

Harry doesn’t see Draco again until three days before their wedding. His memories, his dreams, the letters sent between them, none of it compares to seeing Draco again.

They're not at Black Castle; they aren't even in Wiltshire. They’re at Godric's Hollow, where the skeleton staff that have been running his palace look thrilled to see him and are over the moon by the fact that Harry and Draco have chosen to be married here.

The family suite Harry had lived in as a baby has barely been touched since his parents died and Harry refuses to go in there. He's not entirely sure what he'll find, but he wants Draco with him when he goes through it.

He and Draco were given separate suites on their arrival and it had taken Harry more than an hour to track him down. Minerva, the stewardess, had given them both a sharp look and insisted separate rooms were necessary for them to protect their virtue.

Harry had wanted to roll his eyes, but he gave her an easy smile and she'd seemed satisfied. Now that Harry's found Draco though, now that they finally have a chance to be together, Harry wants to know everything he's missed.

Draco starts with a rundown of his mother chewing out his father in Draco's old rooms at Black Castle.

"The words ‘sanctimonious arsehole’ crossed her lips before she finally decided that she'd said enough."

Then he tells Harry of the reactions he'd witnessed to Harry's outing as a prince which leaves them both laughing.

Harry doesn't get to kiss Draco again until their wedding. Every time he tries, they're disturbed by a knock on the door or a person walking around the corner. There are no hidden, forgotten rooms here for them to hide in.

The pomp and circumstance that is the wedding goes more smoothly than Harry would have imagined but his set of dress clothes, which are so very different to what he's used to, make him uncomfortable and it's a relief when the newly-weds are allowed to retire to their marital bed.

When they enter their suite, though, Harry's nerves kick in. They shouldn't; he's been wanting this for more than a year and now there's nothing and no one to stop them. In fact, it's encouraged.

He watches as Draco slowly strips, dropping each item of clothing into the basket that sits beside the door. He feels his mouth go dry, watching as each pale, new inch of his husband's skin is exposed to him for the first time.

He could never have appreciated Draco in all his beauty then, but now, having been wanting him and not being able to see him, Harry savours every second of it.

"You're overdressed," Draco says with a smirk as he stands in front of Harry dressed only in his undershirt. "Very overdressed."

Harry doesn't bother replying verbally. Instead, he pulls Draco into a crushing kiss. "I never want to spend another day without you," he says. He almost physically cringes a second or two later and it's worse when he hears Draco's low chuckle in his ear.

"I'm yours," Draco says. "Now, get undressed, I've been imagining you naked beneath me for a year."

Harry feels his breath catch in his throat and for a moment, he's terrified.

Then Draco's there, kissing him, slowly undoing the laces of his clothes and sliding them off him as he loses himself in the feeling of Draco's lips on his.

When he's finally spread beneath Draco, he can feel the hardness of Draco's cock against his calf for a brief moment before Draco's kneeling between his legs, pushing his thighs up and apart, exposing him more than he's ever been for anyone before.

He flushes deeply as Draco looks on him like he's a work of art, then he leans down and licks Harry from his scrotum to his anus and Harry lets out a whimper before clapping his hand over his mouth.

Draco pulls it away and looks at him carefully before he speaks. "I want to hear you," he says, and Harry feels like he's going to die of embarrassment.

"You can't lick me there, Draco," he says, trying not to think about how good it felt.

"Why not?" Draco asks as he kisses Harry's navel, moving slowly south once again. "You like it," he kisses Harry again. "I like it." He sucks softly at the skin on Harry's upper thigh. "Why shouldn't we enjoy it."

Harry can feel himself growing harder and he doesn't know how it's possible. "It's dirty," he says, but it's barely louder than a whisper.

"I don't care," Draco says as he licks Harry once more. "I want to be dirty with you. It’ll make cleaning up so much more fun."

Draco licks at Harry until he can't think straight. He’s begging Draco to do something and he can feel tears and sweat on his face but he doesn't care as long as Draco never stops.

The "No!" that rips out of him when Draco moves his head away from Harry is loud but broken, and Harry can barely believe it’s his voice. Then something presses into Harry and he lets out a deep moan, feeling so full and alight with pleasure as Draco's fingers press past his rim slowly but smoothly.

Draco's tiny thrusts with his fingers loosen Harry quickly and Draco kisses at Harry's throat. There's a slight pinching sensation and then Harry's mind goes blank.

When he can finally think again, he realises Draco is holding tightly to his hips, his thighs are tense against the back of Harry's, and his lips are moving soundlessly. Harry moves his hips slightly and Harry whimpers as Draco's fingers cling tighter.

"Draco," Harry says, reaching up and pulling Draco into a kiss. "Move. Fuck me, please."

The next hour is a whirlwind of sensations and emotions that Harry's never felt before and by the time they've thoroughly consummated their marriage, Harry feels slightly hollowed out and vulnerable. When Draco returns with a damp washcloth and starts to clean the come from Harry's skin, leaving soft kisses in his wake, Harry begins to feel slightly more whole; when Draco crawls in to the bed in front of him, wrapping his arms around as much of Harry as he can and interlacing their legs like it wasn't their first night together, Harry feels complete for what is possibly the first time in his life.

"Please don't tell anyone," Draco says in a quiet voice as Harry floats on the edges of sleep, "but I may be in love with you."

Harry lets out a small huff of laughter. "I won't, but they might expect it anyway," Harry tells him as he snuggles in closer. "You did marry me this morning, after all."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr here.](https://akashikadoesthings.tumblr.com/) Thank you for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it.


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